


We're Not in Crime Alley Anymore

by ChimaeraKitten



Series: There's No Place Like It [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Jason is a nerd, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen and Up because Swearing, and also because Jason assumes things that aren't true, and it's not about Jason specifically, as in the family becomes a family, don't worry it's like one sentence, yes editing we do not die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimaeraKitten/pseuds/ChimaeraKitten
Summary: When Bruce returned to the car that night, it was a nine-year-old holding the tire iron, not a young teen. Somehow, Jason Todd at nine was even more precocious than Jason Todd at 12. Bruce has his work cut out for him.





	1. Burgers and Bedrooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm moving some events around for the sake of this fic. The whole eating burgers on the hood of the batmobile conversation happened AFTER the whole bit with Ma Gunn's school. And Jason meets Bruce much quicker after Catherine died. (he's a tough kid, but three years is a big difference and surviving on the streets alone at nine is much harder than at 12)
> 
> Thank you to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for betaing.

All Jason knew was that one second, he was having an amiable (if weird) conversation with an urban legend, and the next, he was so drowsy that he couldn't keep his eyes open.

He slid forward off the hood of the car and was caught by a gauntleted arm. _I've been drugged._ He realized. _Shit, that was stupid. I'm about to have my organs harvested._ Then he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

When he came to, the biggest surprise was that he came to at all, what with the predicted organ-harvesting. The next biggest surprise was that he was in a bed. A proper bed, with sheets and everything. Nothing like the hard pallets he was used to sleeping on, which may have at one point resembled a mattress.

The next surprise was that he was in a room. Well that wasn't really the surprise. Logically, if he was in a bed, then it followed that he was in a room. What was surprising was that he was in a Room. Capital R.

The place was huge. Easily twice the size of the main room of the old apartment he'd lived in with his mom.

And it was _luxurious_. In his head, Jason had a rough idea of luxury. It involved a bunch of people looking like the guy on the monopoly box standing around eating caviar on a yacht. But this? This was something else entirely. _It's like I'm in the Palace of Versailles._ Jason thought. He wasn't actually certain what the Palace of Versailles looked like, but it had to have been crazy if people cut off the king’s head for it. It was probably opulence beyond what Jason could imagine.

Or, at least, beyond what Jason could imagine before being in this Room.

Of course, once Jason articulated how exactly he felt about the Room, his brain started in on the big questions, like how and why he was here.

Half a dozen horrific scenarios played through his head immediately, not the least of which was getting hunted through the woods by a rich guy who’d read _The Most Dangerous Game_ one to many times.

Careful not to make any noise, Jason crawled out of the bed, and was relieved to find himself still in his own clothes, though his hoodie and shoes were missing. He lifted the hem of his shirt and checked for any bandages or injuries. Nothing. So he still had both kidneys then. He padded over to the Room’s only window and peaked out, barely shifting the curtain.

What he saw was not encouraging. For one, he was at least four floors up, above the height where he might consider attempting to climb down. Secondly, the window looked out on a huge expanse of green lawn, and beyond that, forest, not city. He wasn’t in Gotham. Or at least not within the city proper.

Even if he did get out, he’d have nowhere to go.

The hunted-through-the-woods scenario seeming more and more likely, Jason contemplated his next move. He could try the door, but it was surely locked beyond his skill. He could hide under the bed or in the closet and hope to slip out whenever someone came to look for him, but there was probably security cameras watching his every move. Rich people had those, right?

Before Jason could come up with a plan of action, he heard a knock on the door.

“Are you awake, master Jason?” A voice called, “Breakfast is served.”

Jason reacted to the voice immediately, and a good thing too, because the door opened barely a second after he dove under the bed.

The owner of the voice made a confused sound, and Jason was awed that the pounding of his heart didn’t give him away.

He heard a sigh, and then the voice said, “If you were attempting to hide, might I suggest putting the covers on the bed so as to properly hide your feet.”

 _Shit_. Jason thought. _Shit Shit Shit_. He braced himself to get dragged out from under the bed, but no hands grabbed his feet, instead, the owner of the voice seemed to be waiting for something.

Finally, the owner of the voice cleared his throat. “You may remain under there as long as you with, but breakfast is getting cold.” Jason realized that the voice was British, and kinda old-sounding. Which was probably why he hadn’t dragged Jason out.

Jason’s traitorous stomach chose that moment to growl. He froze, but the speaker didn’t react other than saying, “The sooner you come out, the sooner you can eat.”

Yeah, right. No way was Jason going to walk into such a clear trap. (Again) He might be hungry, but he wasn’t stupid enough to repeat _that_ mistake.

That was when another voice sounded from the doorway. “What’s the hold up Alfred?”

“Young Master Jason seems reluctant to come to breakfast.”

A beat of pause.

“He’s hiding under the bed?”

The first voice didn’t respond, but Jason suspected he was nodding.

The now voice sighed. “Jason, you’re probably scared, but nobody is going to hurt you.”

 _That_ was a big fat lie, and Jason nearly said so, before he remembered that t was probably wiser to keep his mouth shut.

“Look, I know the last place Batman dropped you off at didn’t turn out that well—“ _Understatement_ , Jason thought. “—But we honestly want to help you.”

Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “Then why’d he drug me?”

“He had to stop by his base before he brought you here. He didn’t want you to see.”

Jason’s stomach grumbled again, and he considered caving in and crawling out from under the bed, but no, he needed to be certain first. “Where am I?” He asked.

“You’re in a guest room at Wayne Manor.” The newer voice informed him.

“Wayne? As in the weird rich guy?”

Right after he said it, Jason realized that it was probably not a good idea to insult the guy to his servants, but he was relieved when all he heard was a slight chuckle.

“Yes, 'the rich guy’. Will you come out now?”

The likelihood of the hunted-through-the-woods scenario was getting slowly replaced by several other unsavory possibilities, but Jason chose to ignore things he didn’t want to consider for now.

Instead, he asked, “ _I’m_ not breakfast, am I?”

This time it was the original voice that answered, dryly. “Well, Master Jason. You would likely taste quite awful, so I believe we’ll stick with more traditional breakfast foods.”

Giving in, Jason crawled out from under the bed. May as well take food if it was being offered. He could plan his escape later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DC timelines are really hard to work out. Like, most people agree that Jason died at 15, but I've heard a couple of ages for when he first became Robin, so It's kinda difficult to say e x a c t l y you much younger he is here. Let's just say that he's young enough that Bruce's first thought was less "Hey kid wanna fight crime" and more "small child. must protect."


	2. Breakfast and Butlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) beta'ed again, because she's awesome that way.
> 
> trying to do a regular weekly update schedule with this one. We'll see how that goes.

Jason pulled himself up to standing. Eyes narrowed in suspicion. He watched the two men carefully.

One of them (probably the first one) had white hair and was dressed like he belonged in some old film. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. He didn’t exactly look _fragile_ , but Jason bet he could take him, if he had to.

The other guy was a different story. He was big: tall and broad, and young too; he couldn’t have been older than 35. Jason’s best bet with him would be a stealth approach.

He realized the younger guy was speaking. “—Sorry you were drugged but I’d like to make the most of the situation. Why don’t you come downstairs and eat breakfast with us?”

Jason nodded slightly. “Okay.”

The guy didn’t _smile_ exactly, but he did look less severe. He guided Jason out the door and down the well-lit hallway, not touching him exactly, but hovering.

Jason tried to hold back panic.

Neither of the men seemed inclined to start a conversation, and the silence was starting to get suffocating, so Jason spoke up.

“So, uh, who are you?”

The guy directly behind Jason startled a little bit, sharing a look with the older man. “Sorry,” he said ruefully, “I guess I forgot introductions— I’m Bruce Wayne, and this is Alfred Pennyworth.”

Jason’s mouth went dry. “You’re the rich guy!?” Shit. _Shit_.

That got a chuckle out of him. “Yes, that’s me.”

Jason felt the tips of his ears going pink, and he was too embarrassed to think about the possible consequences of insulting the guy to his face earlier.

They walked down several flights of stairs before ending up in a small dining room. The table was already set with two places.

“Why don’t the two of you sit?” Mr. Pennyworth asked, gesturing to the table. “I’ll retrieve breakfast.”

Jason eyed the table warily. Sitting down without some sort of fight felt to much like surrendering himself to a trap.

Seeming to pick up on his unease, Mr. Wayne circled the table and sat down on the other side, reaching out for the newspaper already sitting on the table.

As soon as Mr. Wayne’s eyes vanished behind the paper, Jason slid into a chair. He tried not to fidget or make noise, harboring an irrational hope that Mr. Wayne would forget he was there.

Jason was just reaching the end of his patience for holding still (every nerve in his body was still screaming ‘run’) when Mr. Pennyworth returned, carrying a large platter of food and a pot of coffee.

Jason’s mouth started watering the second the smell reached him. He hadn’t had good, fresh, homemade food since…

Mr. Pennyworth set the platter down and started serving food out. Jason watched bacon and eggs and hash browns and toast and fruit and muffins pile up on his plate, and only managed to keep himself from diving in because Mr. Pennyworth was still in the way.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Mr. Wayne said.

Mr. Pennyworth inclined his head and left. Jason probably would have lunged for the food, caution be damned, if Mr. Wayne hadn’t put down the newspaper and _looked_ at him.

Jason froze like a deer in the headlights. The fist whiff of food had driven all his other worries from his mind, but Mr. Wayne’s gaze brought it all crashing back down.

He gulped, wondering if he’d messed something up somehow. He had the sense that he was walking on eggshells here, and any misstep could cause Mr. Wayne to release the hounds— figuratively and literally.

After a moment of watching him, Mr. Wayne frowned. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Jason flinched.

Mr. Wayne blinked, but then he seemed to understand Jason’s trepidation. He gestured. “Go ahead. Nobody is going to drug you again.”

Moving carefully, uncertain, Jason snagged a piece of toast. When Mr. Wayne didn’t make any move to stop him, Jason stuffed it in his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed quickly, not taking the time to taste it. He eyed Mr. Wayne, but again, the man made no move.

Taking the chance, Jason inhaled another piece of toast, watching Mr. Wayne warily the whole while.

After a third piece, Jason determined that Mr. Wayne wasn’t going to stop him any time soon, and dove into the other varieties of food on the plate.

After another minute of observation, Mr. Wayne remarked, “if you don’t slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

Jason froze for a second, but when no farther rebuke was forthcoming, he resumed eating, though at a slightly slower pace.

Seemingly satisfied, Mr. Wayne sat back, taking a sip of his coffee.

They remained in relatively companionable silence while Jason systematically worked his was through the food on the plate. Once he slowed down enough to taste it, he realized that everything in front of him was delicious. Of course, Jason’s standards were pretty low, but he could still appreciate a quality meal.

He’d been intending to go for seconds off the food tray, (he decided that packing on the calories now would be worth any possible consequences) but as soon as he finished the last of the food on his plate, Mr. Wayne cleared his throat.

Guessing that whatever he was about to hear was important, Jason put his fork down.

“Jason, we need to discuss arrangements.”

Jason almost bolted right then and there. For all of his imaginative musings, he knew which scenario was most likely from the start.

“I’m not a whore.” Jason said bluntly, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. “But there’s plenty in the Alley if you look.”

Wayne honest-to-god _froze_ , completely taken aback. “That’s not— Is that what you think you’re here for?”

Jason was almost offended by the insult to his intelligence. “What else would it be?”

Mr. Wayne put a hand over his face, shading his eyes for a moment before deliberately placing it down on the table where it was visible.

“Jason… you’re here because you need a place to stay. I’ll provide that as long as necessary. Nothing else.”

Jason didn’t relax, still not quite believing. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

It wasn’t in Jason’s nature to take anyone’s word for anything, but he conceded that Mr. Wayne was probably telling the truth, at least concerning the immediate future. Of course, Jason knew better than anyone that nothing ever comes free, and he was certain that there would be a price for all of this down the road.

For now, he just wanted seconds on bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason+Food is the true OTP


	3. Elephants and Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta-ing a fic from a fandom she isn't even in.
> 
> It's a bit longer chapter this time, but I actually got it written quick enough for a regular update! yay! I'm going to stick with the schedule as long as I can.

Breakfast went easier after Jason asked about the elephant in the room. Still awkward, but easier.

Jason was even comfortable enough to eat until even the _idea_ of putting more food in his mouth nearly made him sick. He ought to have tried to eat more (he didn’t know when he’d have an opportunity to eat like this again) but he reached a point where he just… couldn’t. It seemed _wrong_ somehow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been full, _really_ full, and now he was letting it get in the way of eating more food. It was ridiculous.

But alas, after a full three minutes of staring at one last piece of toast, Jason had to concede defeat. He just couldn’t eat anymore. He pushed his plate a few millimeters farther away from him and stood, indicating he was done.

Mr. Wayne, who, for some strange reason, had only eaten half of what he was originally served, stood up when Jason did. “I have a meeting I can’t cancel today, so you’ll be alone here with Alfred. Is that alright?”

Jason was so surprised that Mr. Wayne was willing to let the street kid Batman brought him in the middle of the night out of his sight that he almost missed the question at the end. Since when did any adult ask Jason what he wanted?

“Ah-huh.” Jason said, too taken aback to be articulate.

The corner of Mr. Wayne’s mouth twitched upward. “Alfred will be pretty busy, but I’m assuming you can look after yourself?”

Jason nodded, eyes wide. _Leaving me alone in his big crazy rich-guy house? Just like that?_

Mr. Wayne’s almost-smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Good.” He folded the newspaper under his arm and circled the table. He put his hand out- almost like he was going to ruffle Jason’s hair- but then seemed to think better of it. He opened the door and started to step out, then stopped. “I’ll be back by four. We can talk then.” And with that he swept out, leaving Jason alone.

Jason wasn’t alone for long, however, because barely fifteen seconds passed before Mr. Pennyworth was in the room collecting the dishes. One second, the room was empty, and the next he was just… there. _He must be some kind of ninja_. Jason decided.

After a moment, Mr. Pennyworth said, “I believe Master Bruce intended to let you have the run of the place, but I might advise you not to enter any locked rooms. Lunch is served at noon.” Mr. Pennyworth didn’t wait for a reply before ninja-ing out with the gathered dishes.

Jason looked at the clock on the wall over the head of the table. It was barely eight. That meant he had a full four hours before he had anything to even consider doing. And he would be at lunch. No matter how much he’d just eaten, there was no way he was going to turn down another meal. Might as well take food where he could get it. After that, well, he had another four hours before Mr. Wayne came back to figure out what he wanted to do.

 

* * *

 

Jason spent the first three hours mapping out the manor. (It was always good to be prepared, plus, he really needed to walk off all that food he'd eaten. The first twenty minutes were a fight to keep breakfast down) As far as he could figure, the manor had four floors, an attic, and a wine cellar, though he didn’t go up into the attic, and for all he knew, the wine cellar could actually be a bomb shelter. Rich people had weird things like that.

The first floor had two kitchens (a big fancy one and a smaller one that held Mr. Pennyworth) and a couple of big empty rooms that were probably for dances or something. One of them had a glass wall that looked out on a concrete patio with a pool. The other had the front door. It reassured Jason to know where at least a couple of exits were, even if escaping through either would be a bit obvious. He found a couple of locked rooms, but decided that the promise of lunch was worth obeying Mr. Pennyworth’s directive for now.

The first floor also had a gym, a large dining room, a sitting room, and what looked like a home theater, but the most interesting part of the first floor, at least to Jason, was the library.

When he was a kid, Jason used to occasionally watch movies with Sandra, the little girl who lived in the apartment directly above the one he shared with his mom. Sandra loved all things _princess_ , so they ended up watching a lot of Disney movies. Jason’s favorite (though he’d never admit it) was _Beauty_ _and_ _the_ _Beast_. Particularly the scene where Beast gives Belle the library. In Jason’s opinion, she should have married Beast right then and there. Jason probably would have, and he could barely read at that point.

The library in Wayne Manor wasn’t _quite_ like the library in the movie, but it was pretty damn close. It probably had more books than half the public schools in the city combined, and they were all old and fancy-looking. Jason wasted a full hour of his allotted exploration-time in there, and he probably would have wasted more if Mr. Pennyworth hadn’t come in to dust.

After fleeing the watchful eye of the Manor’s resident ninja, Jason headed up to the second floor. There, he found a couple of almost normal-looking rooms with TVs and couches and a couple of offices, plus a row of empty guest bedrooms. The third floor held more of the same, plus, astoundingly, another library.

This one was much smaller than the other, and filled with dog-eared paperbacks as opposed to the carefully preserved hardcovers in the downstairs one. Jason had read a lot of the books in here, but most of them were new to him. Curious, he pulled one- a battered copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ \- of the shelf and read the note on the inside cover.

_To Bruce: you may not be old enough to read it yet, but this is one of my favorites. Love, Mom_

Jason put the book back on the shelf, feeling like he was intruding on something, though he didn’t know what. The feeling was enough to drive him out of the room, which was probably good, because he was running low on exploration-time.

The fourth floor had a lot of bedrooms; only on this floor several of them were locked. The unlocked ones included the bedroom Jason woke up in earlier that morning.

Jason looked up at the attic hatches, and then decided it was too much work. Instead, he set to memorizing the angles of view out the windows.

From what he had to work with there, plus all the exploring, he worked out that the house was basically arranged in one big U shape around the pool patio. There were gardens past that, and beyond there, a whole bunch of lawn. In the distance, he could just make out the gravestones of a private cemetery. Everything else was forest.

The front side of the house -the bottom of the U- looked out on a long driveway with a loop leading up to the front door. From the fourth floor, he could see a gate and what must have been a garage of some sort.

The most notable thing about the front view was a huge oak tree growing in the grassy circle created by the loop. It had a tire swing in it, for some reason.

Jason really, _really_ wanted to try out that tire swing, but he didn’t want to overstep the bounds of the tentative peace he was enjoying here, so instead, he headed back to the smaller kitchen.

He was still a little less than an hour early for the promised lunch, but Jason really didn’t have any idea of what to do once he finished mapping the manor. The kitchen seemed like as good a place as any to wait.

Of course, that would mean hanging out around Mr. Pennyworth, and Jason still didn’t really have any idea what to think of the guy.

Mr. Pennyworth was busy stirring a pot of something on the stove when Jason got to the kitchen, but he still took a moment to examine his visitor.

After a moment, he asked, “Can I assist you with anything, Master Jason? Lunch is in an hour, but if you want something to drink…“ he trailed off, seeing the strange look Jason was giving him

“Is everything quite alright?”

Jason shuffled his feet. “Can I, uh, can I help with lunch?” It seemed like the right thing to ask. His mom always loved it when he offered to help in the kitchen. She’d smile and call him her little chef and together they’d get the cooking done faster.

Now it was Jason’s turn to receive a look. Mr. Pennyworth seemed unprepared for the offer, but after a moment he smiled. “It’s not proper, but I suppose. Can you peel potatoes?”

Jason nodded vigorously. His culinary skills might not be great, but he could peel potatoes with the best of ‘em.

Mr. Pennyworth pointed the wooden spoon at a colander full of potatoes next to the sink. “Those are actually part of dinner, but may as well get a start on them.”

“What are you making with them?” Jason asked, completely forgetting to be cautious.

“Hasselback potatoes, to go with the breaded Tilapia and sage butter sauce.” Mr. Pennyworth replied, handing Jason a potato peeler out of his apron pocket.

Honestly, Jason had no idea what any of that was. He was fairly certain that Tilapia was a type of fish, but beyond that he didn’t have a clue. “Oh. Cool.” Jason said, unsure of how to react. He reached for the first potato.

“Lunch is tomato soup and grilled cheese.” Mr. Pennyworth added.

“Cool.” Jason said, with a lot more feeling this time. He liked tomato soup.

“Indeed, Master Jason. I was unsure what you might like, so I planned the basics.”

Jason was too shocked at the idea of Mr. Pennyworth planning around him to wonder who on earth considered fancy fish and crazy herb sauce “Basics.” He blushed. “I’ll eat anything. Really.” He switched his grip on the potato to get a better angle.

Mr. Pennyworth’s face seemed to soften a little, though Jason couldn’t put his finger on what exactly had changed. “Surely you must have favorites.”

Jason focused on a tough angle on the potato for a moment before he answered. He didn’t want to overstep some invisible line or give too much away. Not to mention that there wasn’t really any point in sharing too much, since he didn’t think anyone was planning on him staying here very long. “I like chili dogs and Canadian bacon pizza.” He offered.

“Is that all?” Mr. Pennyworth asked, not unkindly.

Jason finished the first potato and reached for the second., debating how to reply. “When I was little my mom made spaghetti a lot, only she used cut up sausage- kielbasa, I think, instead of meatballs because it was easier.” Jason glanced up at Mr. Pennyworth. “I liked how much more flavor it had.”

Mr. Pennyworth nodded sagely. “I believe that can be arranged.”

Jason looked back at the potatoes, unable to acknowledge that Mr. Pennyworth was acting like it was certain that Jason would stay long enough for certain meals to be arranged.

After two more potatoes, Jason worked up the courage to ask about it. “Mr. Pennyworth—“

“Please, call me Alfred.”

That was weird, but okay. “How long do you think I’m staying here?”

Alfred paused. “However long you wish to, young sir.”

That came as a surprise. Even if Jason gave Mr. Wayne the benefit of the doubt, he figured he had a day or two before the guy called social services. He didn’t know what kind of favor Mr. Wayne owed Batman, but he doubted it was enough for a rich guy to keep a street urchin in his house for long. Without the benefit of the doubt, well, Jason had planned to leave before Mr. Wayne got home today. “He’s not going to call social services?” Jason asked, reaching for yet another potato.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce has little confidence in the Gotham foster system these days. They have a history of sending children they consider to be ‘problems’ to juvenile hall without giving them a chance.”

Jason wondered where Mr. Wayne had gotten personal experience with the Gotham foster system. “What if,” Jason swallowed, putting the potato he was holding down. He was about to tip his hand, but he had to know. “What if I don’t want to stay?”

Alfred seemed to think for a moment, making Jason panic a bit. What if he wasn’t allowed to leave?

“I don’t think,” Alfred said slowly, as if trying to soothe a scared animal, “That Master Bruce would abide by you returning to a life alone on the street. However, if you did not wish to stay here for any length of time, then he would examine other options. However, I must advise you that you at least stay a short while.” He looked Jason in the eye. “Lining up other options takes time, and it would be in your best interest not to rush into anything.”

Jason nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t _completely_ trapped here. He went back to peeling potatoes, even more intently now.

Mr. Wayne might not have any plans to call social services, but Jason making himself useful couldn’t hurt. The more beneficial it was to Mr. Wayne that he was here, the better Jason’s chances were of getting out of this without having to escape from another social worker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I shamelessly give Jason all my favorite foods and also my opinion of Beauty and the Beast.
> 
> I planned a bit about Jason considering stealing things from the manor, but then I could feel Jason's age creeping up towards 11 or 12, so I sacrificed those bits to make him seem a bit younger. I'm still figuring out exactly how much Jason's character changed. I will probably still address theft at some point, because it's realistic for the situation, but I've got to figure out some things first.


	4. Lunch and Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter unbeta'd because I ran out of time. apologies. If you see a typo, feel free to point it out.

Lunch was great (Alfred’s tomato soup was a vast improvement over Campbell’s) but afterward Jason found himself at a bit of a loss for what to do. He’d put off all decision making until the ambiguous “after lunch” and now he found himself rushing to come up with a plan. He had less than four hours before Mr. Wayne came back, and he still didn’t know what he wanted to do. Run now and avoid everything? He’d be back where he was yesterday, but that wasn’t so much of a loss. He’d gotten two good meals out of it. He was certain nobody would look for him once he got past the front gate. Wayne was probably just doing this as a favor, and Jason doubted that Batman had bothered to remember his name past the moment Jason shared it. Then again, he didn’t have a way back into Gotham from here and he didn’t fancy making the trek at night.

He didn’t doubt that his little hidey-hole had already been claimed or looted without him there to defend it, which meant he’d have to start from scratch. He could take something from the manor to sell for a bit of cash, but that would probably get people chasing him. He could avoid the police, but a guy like Wayne probably had more resources than just the GCPD.

He could stay another night. If Wayne really wasn’t going to call social services then a few more hours couldn’t hurt. He could get a good night’s sleep and take a shower, then slip out right after Wayne left tomorrow, when he was fresh and had all day to get back on familiar turf.

 _I could stay longer than that._ A small part of Jason’s mind said. _It would be nice to eat and sleep regularly again, and Alfred doesn’t seem half bad._ Jason quashed that thought down. That was the thought of the stupid Jason from four months ago, the one who let his mother talk him out of taking her to the hospital when she so clearly needed it- the one went with the social worker without thinking ahead. That was the thought of the Jason who trusted people who hadn’t earned it.

Jason wasn’t that stupid anymore. He wouldn’t let himself be. He’d stay one more night, and then leave in the morning. He wouldn’t give anyone a chance to stab him in the back.

 

* * *

 

Jason took a long shower in the bathroom connected to the room he woke up in. (how had he not noticed it before?) The truth was that he’d intended to take a short shower, but once he got under the spray he kind of melted and couldn’t find the strength to drag himself out. He was tired, and it had been _so_ long since he’d had a real shower. Sneaking into the locker room at the Y two weeks ago didn’t count.

Jason stayed in the shower until he was swaying on his feet. Deciding he’d rather not accidentally drown in a rich guy’s shower, he dragged himself out, wrapping himself in a big fluffy towel hanging next to the sink. He thought about sitting down on the closed toilet, but the room was still steamy and braining himself on the tile after falling asleep seemed about as bad as drowning in the shower.

He grabbed his dirty clothes off the floor and stumbled back out into the bedroom. He’d rather not put them back on, but they were the only clothes he had. He tossed his pants on the bed and started putting his shirt on. That was when he realized two things: A) the bed had been made, and B) there was a small pile of folded clothes sitting on the pillow.

Jason barely hesitated before reaching for the clothes. It was a reasonable assumption that Alfred had put them there, and as weird as someone coming into the room and cleaning while Jason showered was, he really, really didn’t want to put his own dirty clothes back on.

The clothes ended up being a Gotham Knights T-shirt that was a size to big, boxers, and a pair of sweatpants that actually fit. The boxers had the starchy feel of new clothing, but the sweatpants felt worn, and it would be clear the T-shirt originally belonged to someone else even if it hadn’t been too big.

Jason wondered where Alfred got clothes that fit him, considering that he’d probably arrived around four or five this morning, and he was pretty sure Alfred hadn’t left the house since breakfast, since the butler kept popping up while Jason was exploring.

For a moment, Jason was stumped about what to do with his dirty clothes. He didn’t want to lose track for them, since he’d need them tomorrow. After a moment of consideration, he folded them and slid them under the dresser. It was dusty enough under there that Jason thought they’d be safe for a day at least.

Speaking of clothes, Jason had to find out where his hoodie and shoes went.

He walked out into the hallway, bare wet feet sticking to the wood floors a bit. “Alfred!?” he called out, glancing in the open door of one of the bedrooms. It was one of the ones that were locked earlier.

Jason caught a glimpse of a circus poster on the wall before Alfred appeared in the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

“What can I do for you, Master Jason?”

Jason wrinkled his nose, train of thought thoroughly derailed. “Can you not call me that? It’s weird.”

Alfred looked a bit surprised, but he recovered quickly. “It’s how I address everyone,” He explained, “It was strange for Master Richard at first as well, but he grew accustomed to it, with time.”

Had Jason been less exhausted, he would have asked who ‘Master Richard’ was. Instead, he said, “It’s still weird though.”

Alfred gave him a kindly smile. “That it may be, but it’s the proper form of address.”

Jason frowned, feeling like he’d just lost an argument, though this was like no argument he had ever witnessed.

“Now,” Alfred continued, “What was it you were going to ask?”

Jason’s thoughts snapped back on track. “Right, yeah, um, I was wondering where my hoodie went? And my shoes?”

“I believe your hoodie is currently in the dryer,” Alfred replied, “Your shoes are in the closet of your room.”

“Oh.” Jason said, floored by the casual reference to the Room as _his_ room.

“Speaking of, we ought to wash your clothes now that you aren’t wearing them. Did you leave them in your room?”

Jason wasn’t sure why this, off all things, made him panic. But it did. _I don’t want to give them up- not even for the wash. I could never get them back. I don’t know how I could find them tomorrow._ “I uh, I- they’re not that dirty?”

Alfred gave him a quizzical look. “Wouldn’t you rather they got clean?”

Jason’s mouth felt too dry. He didn’t know what to say. He just wanted his stuff left alone. “I um, don’t know if I… I don’t want to lose them- er- lose track of them.” Jason rushed out.

Alfred furrowed his brow, giving Jason a quizzical look. “I assure you that nothing goes missing under my care.”

Jason just looked at his feet, willing Alfred to drop it.

“Would you rather come with me to wash your clothes?”

Jason blinked. _What?_ “What?”

“I assume, since you seem to be worried about clothing going missing in this large house, that knowing where the laundry is might assuage your anxiety.”

Jason bit his lip. It would be a risk, but clean clothes would be worth it. After tomorrow, it could be months before he got another chance to wash his clothes.

Jason nodded. “Okay.”

Alfred smiled. “Why don’t you run and retrieve your clothes, and then I can show you the way to the laundry.”

Jason scampered off, glad that Alfred wasn’t following him back into his room. For some reason, he didn’t want the butler too see that he’d hidden his clothes. It felt like a betrayal of trust.

 _Don’t be stupid_. Jason chided himself. _I don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust me, so I’m not betraying anything._

Armed with that reassurance (and an armful of dirty clothes) Jason reemerged into the hall.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the dust now coating the clothes, but he made no comment.

He led Jason all the way down to the first floor, where they entered a room that Jason missed on his explorations.

It was a pretty simple room, almost like something you might find in a normal house. There were a few laundry baskets scattered about and a shelf with detergent and fabric softener. A large washer and dryer sat in front of one wall, and above them hung a line with a sweater drying on it.

Alfred opened the dryer and dumped a load of dry clothes into a nearby laundry basket, and then reached to switch out the washer, taking Jason’s dirty clothes at the same time.

While he did that, Jason inspected the newly dry clothes, catching sight of a familiar flash of red.

He made a rather undignified happy sound when he uncovered his hoodie and pulled it on. It was warm, sending Jason spiraling back into memories of pulling it out of the dryer first at the Laundromat while his mom laughed and called him her little heat bug.

The hoodie, which had at one point been on its way toward becoming too small for him, now hung off his frame, at least a size too big. In Jason’s head, he knew that this was a bad thing, as it meant that he had lost weight, but he couldn’t help but feel glad that he could keep wearing it. Even with months of grime, it had still felt like a little piece of home, one of the only things Jason had managed to keep.

Alfred cleared his throat, and Jason turned to him, yawning. The heat of the hoodie had returned Jason’s sleepiness.

Alfred gave him an amused look. “As it will be a while before this load is finished, you may wish to take a nap before dinner.” He said, steering Jason out of the room.

“‘K.” Jason said, yawning again. He stumbled on up the stairs. He wanted to protest that he was too old for naps, but the thought of the bed was enticing. “Tell me when it’s done?” he called back down at Alfred.

Alfred smiled again. “Of course.”

Jason mustered a smile back, then turned up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo! not this week, inconsistent-update-schedule. Not. This. Week. I'm on time this week.
> 
> (Wait, is that really how you spell schedule? seems wrong somehow)
> 
> For anyone wondering, Bruce will be back next week.


	5. Distress and Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks, as always, to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for being a great beta who reads things on short notice so I can post them before I leave the country.

Jason woke to the sound of a knock on the bedroom door.

He spent a second panicking, not remembering where he was, but then he heard Alfred's voice.

“Master Jason, your clothes are finished drying.”

Jason almost fell over in his rush to get out of the bed and over to the door. He yanked it open fast enough that his shoulder protested.

Once Jason recovered his footing, Alfred raised one eyebrow. “Did you enjoy your nap?” He asked.

Jason bobbed his head. He did feel a lot better. “You said my clothes are done?”

Alfred handed him a pile of folded clothes. For a moment, Jason almost didn’t recognize them as his. He’d kinda forgotten that jeans were supposed to be _blue_.

“Thanks.” Jason said. He was glad that he had all of his possessions back.

Jason hovered there in the doorway, not quite sure what to do, until Alfred took a step back. “Tomorrow we can track down some more clothes for you.”

“Right. Yeah.” Jason said. “Tomorrow.” He nodded, much less enthusiastically this time. He felt bad for lying, but he really didn’t want Alfred realizing that he had no intention to stay after tonight.

Alfred gave him a quizzical look. “Master Bruce will return in an hour,” He said, “Dinner will be served an hour after that.” Alfred started off down the hall, presumably to resume whatever ninja-butlers normally did when there weren’t random street kids in the house.

Getting over the guilt that had his tongue tied in knots, Jason called “Thanks Alfred!” down the hall.

“You are most welcome, master Jason.” Alfred replied, at a much more reasonable volume.

Jason retreated into his r— _the_ Room. He spent the next hour pacing. He put on his own clothes, just on the off chance that he had to flee right away after this meeting. He just had no idea what Mr. Wayne would say.

None of the guy’s behavior made sense to Jason. In his experience, all adults who weren’t his mother could be fit into three categories. Either they were nice enough and minding their own business, (Like Alfred or the librarian at the Gotham Public Library who let Jason sleep in one of the reading rooms) stupid, or nasty. Well, technically there was a fourth category, stupid _and_ nasty. The social worker fit into that category.

The problem was that Mr. Wayne didn’t fit into any of those categories. Letting Jason into his house that the request of Gotham’s resident bat-enthusiast didn’t seem like minding his own business, yet it wasn’t  _nasty_. Jason supposed he could be stupid (the tabloids certainly seemed to think so) yet Mr. Wayne hadn’t stuck him as stupid. It was usually pretty easy to tell.

Jason pondered this until there was another knock on his— _the_ door. This one was more forceful than Alfred’s had been.

Jason startled, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read 4:12.

 _Shit_. Jason thought. _I meant to find a better place to meet him_. Somewhere on the first floor would be a lot better. It would be easier to escape if things went south.

Heart pounding, Jason crossed to the door and flung it open with a bit too much force. The sudden movement must have startled Mr. Wayne, because he stared at Jason, wide-eyed.

Jason opened his mouth to get the first word, but found that he ha no idea what to say. Eventually, he cleared his throat and managed, “Uh, come in?”

Mr. Wayne looked pointedly at Jason’s feet, still standing in the middle of the doorway, effectively blocking the path into the room.

Blushing, Jason stepped to the side, letting Mr. Wayne enter. For a moment they stood awkwardly a few steps in from the doorway, before Mr. Wayne cleared his throat and gestured to the bed. “May I sit?”

“It’s your house.” Jason frowned. He hadn’t meant to sound so curt, but he wasn’t quite sure how this sort of conversation was supposed to go. In the Alley, people spoke their minds when they weren’t hiding something. It probably didn’t work that way here.

Mr. Wayne sat down on the bed stiffly, not looking away from Jason. He took a deep breath, and then started. “I feel that we need to clarify some things.”

Jason snorted. “Ya think?” then he covered his mouth with his hands, horrified.

Luckily, Mr. Wayne didn’t seem to be angry. Quite the opposite, in fact; he smiled at it like it was funny.

“Listen Jason. This while thing—“ He gesture vaguely with is hand. “—It’s no-strings-attached, alright? You can stay here as long as you want.”

“You won’t call social services?” Jason asked, hating how soft his voice went.

“Not unless you want me to.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “Of _course_ not.”

Mr. Wayne nodded. “I won’t— I won’t leave you back on the street Jason, but I won’t call Gotham social services. There are other options.”

This was the second time today that someone had mentioned other options. “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t want to stay here, then there are… people, I can contact. They could get you out of Gotham- out of the country even, if you want- and set you up with a good foster family.”

“No.” Jason said.

Mr. Wayne faltered. “No?”

“No social services. Gotham or elsewhere.”

“Jason, I don’t know what happened, but I promise that few places are like Gotham when it comes to social services. Other places are better—“

“No.” Jason cut him off, clenching his fists. “I won’t.”

Mr. Wayne eyed him for a second, checking to make sure he was done with his outburst.

“I can also try to track down any living relatives. Obviously Social Services wasn’t able to find anyone, but I can cast a wider net.” Mr. Wayne offered.

Jason paused at that. Could he really… The idea of having a family again sounded so wonderful but… “My mom always said she didn’t have any family. And my dad- I don’t want anything to do with his side of the family.”

Mr. Wayne nodded. “Your father- do you know where he is?”

“I won’t go back to _him_.” Jason spat. He had never once, not even at his most desperate, considered trying to find Willis.

Mr. Wayne held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I don’t think you should. But social services didn’t even make an effort with him, and I think it would be… informative to know why.”

Jason blinked at him. Why should he care about his dad? Come to think of it, “Why do you care? It isn’t your problem.”

Mr. Wayne sighed. “I just want to help you, Jason.”

“Maybe—“ Jason swallowed. “—Maybe I don’t want your help. Maybe I can take care of myself.” He wanted to sound forceful, but he couldn’t meet Mr. Wayne’s eyes and ended up just sounding nervous.

Mr. Wayne stood, and Jason found himself shrinking backwards, suddenly scared. Despite his calm demeanor, Mr. Wayne was simply too large to _not_ be intimidating. Jason's eyes flicked to the door. How fast could he make an escape?

Mr. Wayne moved and Jason tensed, ready to run, but all the man did was drop to his knees, putting his face at Jason’s eye level.

“I’m not saying you can’t.” Mr. Wayne said diplomatically. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t have to. Adults should be taking care of you. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of them.”

“I’m not _scared_.” Jason sputtered, choking up and hating every second of it.

“You’re scared of me.”

“That’s because you’re terrifying!” Jason yelled, all semblance of control gone.

Mr. Wayne blinked, flabbergasted.

“I don’t know what you _want_.” Jason said, softer than before. “At least if you had- y’know- then I would know what to do.” He was dangerously close to crying now. _Don’t you dare_. He thought. He wasn’t a baby. No way would he let himself act like one.

“Jason, listen.” Mr. Wayne said, voice still diplomatic but a lot less guarded. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help.”

Jason sniffled, holding back tears with sheer force of willpower. “Nobody _ever_ just wants to help.”

Mr. Wayne reached out and took one of Jason’s hands. He didn’t squeeze it reassuringly like mom used to, but he didn’t yank it like the social worker did either. Instead, he held it delicately between both of his hands. “I do. I promise.”

Jason tugged his hand away, uncomfortable with the contact. “Then why won’t you leave me alone? Let me go back home? I was fine before you and Batman got involved.”

“Boosting tires? Sleeping in a condemned building? That’s no way to live.”

“I was _fine_.” Jason insisted, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.

“You might have been,” Mr. Wayne conceded, “But what about your future?”

“What about it?” Jason asked, trying for angry but really just sounding sad. Stupid tears.

“What about school? About getting a job some day? You’re a smart boy, but even the smartest people find it hard to escape living on the streets.”

Jason looked away. “It’s not like I had a choice.” He muttered.

Mr. Wayne looked like he wanted to ask about that, but apparently he thought better of it. “What if- what if you gave it a month?”

“Give what a month?”

Mr. Wayne made a vague gesture all around the room. “This. Staying here.”

Jason stared at him. A month? That was a really long time. Even staying until tonight had been an effort. No way could he survive a month here. Not to mention that it seemed crazy that Mr. Wayne would let him stay here for that long.

Jason cleared his throat. “Why- why should I?”

“As a- as a trial run of sorts. After that you can do whatever you want. Even go back to the streets, if you like. Or I can track down you’re mother’s relatives, or even find a foster home—“

“No.” Jason cut him off.

“—Or even send you to a boarding school. Mr. Wayne continued, unperturbed. “But that’s after you stay a full month without running away.”

Jason was rather displeased by this change in the deal. “You said I could leave whenever I wanted.”

“Yes, but not back to the street. I won’t allow that. But if you stay a month then I’ll let you go wherever. I won’t even call Batman.”

Jason considered that. A month was a lot longer than he’d planned, but really, what could it hurt? Staying for one night of rest and a shower wasn’t really all that different from thirty nights and a bunch of showers. And then afterwards he could leave and then everyone could forget about this.

“Okay.” Jason said calmly, tears finally banished. “You’ve got a deal, Mr. Wayne. One month.” He held out a hand to shake. That was how adults sealed deals, right?

Mr. Wayne shook Jason’s hand seriously. “Call me Bruce. If we’ll be living together for a month, we might as well be informal.”

“Alright,” Jason said, “Bruce.”

Bruce smiled, stood, and reached out a hand. This time he actually went through with ruffling Jason’s hair. “Come on, let’s go tell Alfred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we've reached the first big shift in this fic. There probably won't be another chunk like this, with multiple chapters dedicated to one day, until near the end. We'll have to wait and see though.
> 
> There won't be an update next week, due to the aforementioned vacation. Updates should resume as normal the week after that, maybe even with longer/bonus chapters if I find the time.


	6. Salmon and Swordfights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter unbeta'd, because I ran out of time. Which is ironic, because I finally dragged my beta (kicking and screaming- or rather, trying to open the car door and being foiled by me starting to drive away every time) into this fandom.

The next three days fell into a sort of routine. Bruce and Jason shared an awkward breakfast before Bruce left for work in the mornings. Jason spent the rest of the day reading in the smaller library (he was hesitant to touch the fancy books in the larger one) or sometimes helping Alfred cook. Dinner was no less awkward than breakfast, and afterward Bruce vanished while Jason retreated to the bedroom with a book or two. When they talked- if they talked at all- it was only ever about the food or the weather.

It would have been a perfectly acceptable way to spend the rest of the month. There wouldn’t have been any trouble, and the only things Jason would have missed when he left were the books and the bed.

The problem was that by the third day it was driving Jason crazy.

As much as he loved reading, he couldn’t stand just sitting around all the time. His natural inclination towards action combined with his hard won fight or flight instincts meant that his stress levels were rising with every second he was cooped up.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and if Jason didn’t get out of the manor he might explode.

Which was why, at dinner that evening, Jason actually found the courage to make a request, reluctant to be a burden as he was.

“Can I go out tomorrow?”

Bruce looked up from his grilled salmon. “Out where?”

Jason floundered. He had expected to just be shut down immediately, going out, after all, hadn’t been part of the deal.

“I dunno. Just—“ He made a vague gesture with his fork. “—Out.”

Bruce hummed. “I can take you somewhere, but you need to have a specific place in mind.”

Jason hesitated for a second. It made sense that Bruce wouldn’t want to let him out of the house without supervision, but the idea of being taken somewhere had never crossed his mind. At best, he’d expected permission to explore the property.

“Um—“ Jason clutched his fork tighter, forcing the words out. “—Could I- could _we_ \- go to the library?” He looked away from Bruce before the man could respond. “It’s just that I was reading this series and I didn’t get to finish and you don’t have it here and if I’m going to be here a while—“

“Jason.” Bruce cut him off. Jason’s eyes flicked back to him, relieved and surprised that he didn’t seem angry.

“Yeah?”

“Of course I can take you to the library. Alfred can get some more clothes for you while we’re out.”

Jason looked up fully at that. “Really?”

“Really.” He said it like it was obvious. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to readily agree to bring some random kid a vigilante dropped of in your house to the library all the way in the city.

Jason watched Bruce carefully. Was it calculated? Or was he really just that okay with it? Because even Jason’s mother was never _that_ easygoing, and she was the one who introduced Jason to reading. And his father. Well.

Jason rubbed at his shoulder subconsciously. He’d only ever asked his father something like that once.

Belatedly, Jason realized that Bruce was watching him. Waiting for a reaction?

“Thanks.” Jason said finally, trying not to chew his lip.

“Any other requests?” Bruce asked, sounding for all the world as if he was genuinely trying to be accommodating. Jason didn’t entirely trust it, but maybe it was worth a shot anyway?

“ _CanIusethetireswingoutfront_?” Jason rushed out before he could stop himself. He turned his head away quickly, instinctively braced for a reprimand- or worse- that never came.

Instead, Bruce was studying him, brow furrowed. He paused a second too long before he replied.

“Sure.”

Jason breathed a sigh. At least it looked like the impulsive words wouldn’t have consequences. Not right away at least. He hadn’t thought it would, after the peace they’d reached three days ago, but it was hard to bury instinct. From Jason’s observations, Bruce seemed like the type to just flat out deny requests, not punish people for them.

“Jason.” Bruce said, in a more commanding voice.

Or maybe not.

“You know that you can use anything here.” He said.

Jason blinked at him, not completely comprehending.

“I mean,” Bruce amended, “Anything not in one of the locked rooms, or fragile kitchen appliances. Not without supervision, anyway.”

Jason nodded, slowly.

“You’re living here,” Bruce continued, “At least for a little while. You don’t have to ask permission to do things, unless it requires getting a ride somewhere.”

“Okay.” Jason said, already amending the rulebook for living here in his head. Nobody had commented on taking books out of the upstairs library, so that made sense, but he hadn’t wanted to push his luck.

He started to go back to his (all but finished) food, but Bruce wasn’t finished.

“I don’t want this to be an unpleasant experience for you.”

Jason sucked his bottom lip through his teeth. _All evidence to the contrary_. He thought. Okay, that wasn’t completely fair. They were letting him stay in this fancy house and eat whatever he wanted. Jason was smart enough to know that most of his stress didn’t have anything to do with the situation itself.

“Yeah, I know.”

Bruce smiled, real and lopsided. It took years off his face and made him a lot less scary.

“So what do you say to watching a movie tonight? Together? I might as well as get to know you while you’re here. We can open up the home theater. It has quite the movie collection.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.” Jason said, surprised at how genuinely he meant it. It had been a while since he’d watched a movie. He still wasn’t really sure why Bruce cared beyond the bare minimum, but they had been having meals together for the past few days, though that could just be convenience.

“What would you like to watch?” Bruce asked.

Jason looked at him sidelong, trying to gauge how various replies would be taken, but in the end, he went for the simple truth.

“Something with sword fights. Pirates or _The Three Musketeers_ or something?” The last part came out as more of a question than Jason would have liked, but not enough to shield him from some sort of reaction.

Luckily, Mr. Wayne’s smile just got bigger. “A boy after my own heart. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see a bat-dad in his natural habitat, implementing a thirty-seven part plan to acquire a son. Step one: Bonding over movies with good sword fights.
> 
> Apologies for the short, talking-heads-y chapter. Longer next week I promise.


	7. Librarians and Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I haven’t gotten a new library card since I was five. My card is still signed in all caps and the “e” in my name is backwards. I have no idea if this is actual getting-a-library-card procedure.
> 
> This is technically early (at least in my time zone) because I won't be able to post tomorrow. It's Sunday somewhere, right? (Actually it's Sunday most places- other than here, Alaska, and Hawai'i that is)
> 
> Also I changed the chapter naming convention for this fic because it was bothering me
> 
> Thanks to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for once again beta'ing something on short notice. Such short notice, in fact, that she actually only had half the chapter- I added the second half later, so if you find a typo that's all on me.
> 
> Writing Batgirl!Barbara was like pulling teeth. I'm way more used to Oracle!Barbara. I think she might have ended up too much like Stephanie, but you can be the judge.

Jason pressed his forehead against the car window, reveling in the cool feeling on his face and the river of colors passing his unfocused eyes. He was doing his best to not pay any attention to the car, because he knew he’d freak out if he did.

It was the nicest car he’d ever been in by a lot. Hell, he’d never even stolen the tires off a car this nice. (The Batmobile didn’t count) Riding in it was a little surreal, to be honest. At this time of day a week ago he’d have been just falling asleep after a long night boosting tires and defending his hideout.

Jason had to remind himself that he’d be doing that again in a little more than three weeks.

“Do you have a library card?”

Jason startled a bit, remembering that he wasn’t the only one in this car. He pealed his forehead off the window and turned to Bruce, briefly catching Alfred’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I used to get books on my mom’s card, but she lost it a while back.” _After she started using_. Jason didn’t add. “I just read in the library the last few times I went.”

Not having a card had also been a good excuse to hole up in one of the reading rooms for hours on end. As a general rule, the librarians didn’t kick people out unless they caused a problem. He’d spent more than a handful of days in the shelter of the library, both before and after his mom died. His time there tapered off once he realized that sleeping during the day was safer. The Library wasn’t open at night.

“We can get you a card today,” Bruce said, “So you can bring books home.”

Jason wasn’t sure any of the librarians would actually give him a card. He didn’t know what card distribution policy was exactly, and whether it included homeless children, but he nodded anyway.

They pulled up out front of the main branch of the Gotham Public Library only a few minutes later. Jason almost fell flat on his face in his scramble to get out of the car.

“Woah there, kiddo.” Bruce said, coming around from the other side of the car. “It’ll still be there in a minute.”

Jason shook his head. Bruce just didn’t understand. He _had_ a home where he was safe. For Jason, the library wasn’t just a place where he could relax and read whatever he wanted, it was his sanctuary- from his father, from the streets, from the empty look in his mother’s eyes when she was using- and even more than that, it was familiar territory, something he’d been missing in the week since Batman first dropped him off at Ma Gunn’s school.

Jason no longer harbored suspicions toward Bruce. He meant well, kept his promises, and had good taste in movies, but in a month Jason would be on his own again. He couldn’t let himself get used to life off the streets. Bruce was nice, sure, but nice wasn’t enough to make him care about Jason longer than the month he’d already committed to. He’d probably be itching for Jason to leave long before then anyway.

Coming here was in Jason’s best interest. Even though the library was a pretty nice sample of the world outside the manor, he needed to remember that that world existed at all.

Plus, he really wanted to know whether Percy and Annabeth got together at the end.

As the car drove away, Jason pelted up the library front steps, pausing for only the shortest possible amount of time to wait for Bruce to catch up.

Once inside, Jason made a beeline for the Tween/YA section, only to find himself being hauled backwards by the back of his hoodie. He turned around to glare at Bruce, but the man just laughed.

“Card first, okay? Then you can have the run of the place.”

Jason huffed, but grudgingly followed Bruce to one of the help desks. The woman there- a redhead with her hair in a bun and glasses- had her nose buried in a book. Jason glanced at the title- something about computers. She didn’t appear to notice their approach.

Bruce cleared his throat. The woman gave no reaction other than holding up one finger. After another moment she slipped a bookmark into the book and placed it down. Looking up, she said, “How can I help y— _Bruce_?” The woman blinked, clearly surprised.

“Hello Barbara.”

“What are you— Why— You’re out of the house! During the daytime! And on a Saturday, no less!” She sounded incredulous, and too loud for a library.

“I have a life, Barbara.”

She pointed an accusing finger at him, dropping back to the library-approved volume. “You haven’t done anything not work-related since Dick moved out.”

“I go to parties.”

“Yeah, _charity galas_. That you go to so you can keep up appearances. For work.”

Bruce sighed. “Are you going to help me or should I go to another librarian?”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “What do you need?”

Bruce gestured to Jason, and the woman- Barbara- looked at him for the first time.

“He needs a library card.”

Barbara peered at Jason over her glasses. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, but the move made her look older.

“Don’t I know you?” She finally asked.

Jason shrugged and shuffled his feet. He’d spent enough time here that it was entirely possible she’d seen him around.

Bruce put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and Jason only barely flinched. He would have thought that it was imperceptible, except that Bruce took his hand away with an apologetic smile.

Looking at Barbara again, Jason realized that she, too, was wearing that same type of smile.

“Need a library card, huh? Coming right up.”

She vanished under her desk for a moment, then reappeared holding a gray and blue card and a trifold pamphlet. She handed him both and then a pen.

“Sign the back of the card.” She told him. “Just a sec.”

She kicked her swivel chair away from the desk and rolled toward the filing cabinets behind her. It only took her a second flipping through files to find whatever she was looking for.

She rolled back to the desk, passing the paper she retrieved to Jason.

“Sign there and there.” She told him, pointing to two lines on the form. “To agree to pay fines for late, lost, or damaged books. Normally we’re supposed to get a parent signature for people under eighteen but—“ she glanced at Bruce. “—I think I can let that slide this time. We do need a home address though.”

“Use mine.” Bruce said.

Barbara blinked, glancing from Bruce to Jason. It was clear that she was curious, but she didn’t pry. “You might as well just sign as his guardian then.” She said, handing Bruce a pen. “Nobody looks at these anyway.”

Jason handed Bruce the paper, and Bruce started filling out address boxes.

In the meantime, Barbara handed Jason the trifold. “Information.” She said cryptically. “And I might as well just put your information in the database now. Can I see that card?”

Jason handed her the now freshly signed card. She whipped it under the barcode reader and then passed it back, focusing on her computer screen.

“Full name?”

Jason swallowed. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“Hm. Birthdate?”

Jason rattled it off.

“Do you have a phone number? Email address?”

Jason shook his head.

Barbara hummed. “Well I can just copy the rest of this from the form.” She smiled at Jason. “Your library card is officially activated.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that. All I need is that form from Mr. Never-tells-his-friends-anything over here.”

“I keep you informed of everything necessary.” Bruce said, passing Barbara the form.

She tossed the form in a blue box of paperwork on her desk and then tilted her head toward Jason. “Obviously not.”

“He’s only been with me for four days. I hadn’t gotten around to telling you yet.”

“I saw you last night!” She said, once again raising her voice.

“Gross.” Jason commented, feeling the need to remind them he was here.

Barbara looked absolutely horrified. “No that wasn’t— Bruce and I are just friends. He’s old enough to be my _dad_.”

“Hey!” Bruce complained. “I’m not _that_ old. Too old for you, sure, but not that old.”

“Your son is only a few years younger than me.”

“That’s not—“

“You have a _son_?” Jason interrupted.

Barbara _looked_ at him. “You didn’t tell him?” She directed the question at Bruce.

“Would you believe me if I said I honestly forgot?”

Barbara sighed. “I don’t have the energy for this right now. Go explain your life to the child you kidnapped somewhere else.”

“I did not _kidnap_ him.”

“That’s true.” Jason told Barbara, feeling like he at least owed Bruce some defense. “Bruce didn’t kidnap me. Batman did.”

Barbara laughed. “You have no idea how much you’re _not_ helping his case here kid.”

Bruce sighed. “Good seeing you, Barbara. Jason, didn’t you want to check out some books?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jason said, all questions about Bruce’s son and who Barbara was flying out of his mind. “I think it’s this way.” Jason headed for the YA section without waiting for Bruce’s reply.

“Hey, wait for me!” he heard Bruce call.

Jason smiled. This wasn’t so bad.

 

* * *

 

Alfred managed to re-appear with the car almost exactly when Jason and Bruce emerged from the library. Jason mentally added “6th sense” to Alfred’s list of skills.

Though Jason wanted to run to the car, the precarious stack of books that he was keeping upright with sheer willpower dissuaded him. Instead, he picked his way down the library steps carefully.

Getting into the car with the books proved to be a challenge, but it got a lot easier once Bruce took half of them off the stack. He passed them back to Jason before circling to the other side of the car. They pulled away as soon as his door closed.

“I take it that you two had a successful trip?” Alfred asked, eyes visible in the rear-view mirror.

“He wanted to check out the entire library.” Bruce commented.

“I did _not_.” Jason said.

“Indeed, young sir, it appears that you _did_ check out the entire library.” Alfred was clearly eyeing the stack of books that took up the entire middle seat.

Jason blushed. “Bruce said only what I could carry.”

Bruce smiled. “And then he proved that he could carry quite a few more books than I had anticipated.”

“That seems like quite the number of books to read in the next three weeks.” Alfred said.

“I can do it!”

“Hm.”

“—Half of them are graphic novels anyway.” Jason relented.

“He can always renew them if he doesn’t get to them before they’re due.” Bruce added.

Jason nodded. Bruce had already assured him that he could keep using the card no matter where he went when the month was up. It was the reason that Jason had agreed to only checking out what he could carry.

“Did you speak to Miss Gordon while you were there, sir?”

Jason looked up from the book he’d snagged off the stack. “Who’s Miss Gordon?”

“Barbara Gordon is the librarian we spoke to.” Bruce explained.

“Oh.” Jason said, going back to the book. Then he glanced back up. “Wait. Gordon as in Commissioner Gordon? The cop?” Jason remembered more than a few days where his dad came home ranting about Commissioner Gordon and his Major Crimes Unit. _“They’re as bad as the Bat.”_ He’d say.

“She’s his daughter.”

“Huh.” Jason said. That reminded him- “She mentioned that you have a _son_?”

Alfred looked at Bruce in the rear-view mirror. “You haven’t told him?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “I forgot!” He defended weakly. “It never came up!”

Alfred sighed and made eye contact with Jason through the mirror. “Master Richard left for college some months ago.” He informed.

“Is that where the clothes I’ve been wearing came from?” Jason asked.

Alfred nodded. “We were lucky that he preferred tight, stretchy clothing, as he was already larger than you when he moved in with us.”

“Moved in?” Jason looked at Bruce.

“Dick lost his parents when he was a bit older than you. I adopted him.” Bruce said softly.

“Oh.” Jason said. Bruce letting Jason stay for a while made a little more sense now. He’d done it before- and it sounded like Dick stayed for a number of years, not just a few weeks.

“You’ll probably meet him next weekend. He’s planning to visit home.”

“Cool.” Jason said. He wondered what this kid that Bruce took in on a permanent basis would be like. Probably nicer than Jason, but still, if _he_ got to stay forever— _No_. Jason cut off that thought. It didn’t matter. He’d be leaving in a month anyway.

Though he’d never admit it to anyone- especially not himself- somewhere in Jason’s chest, a seed of hope started to take root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years later, looking back, Jason would date the time of his adoption not to when the paperwork finally went through, but to that day in the library- the first time Bruce signed something as his father.


	8. Novels and Nicknames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short bonus chapter! Because I was productive this week.
> 
> I have decided that for the timeline of this fic Jason was born in 2000 and this takes place in 2009. Mostly because I needed The Last Olympian to have come out recently enough that Jason hadn’t read it yet. Also I found out that Jason speaking fast to avoid conflict is actually canon (Who woulda guessed?) which means I intend to include it 300% more.
> 
> Thanks as always to my wonderful beta [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades).

Things got easier after the library trip. Sure, Bruce and Jason’s conversations were still more awkward than not, but it was just awkward, not _tense_. And even the awkwardness eased a bit after Jason spent a good portion of Sunday night’s dinner trying to explain why the Percy Jackson series was entertaining only to find out that Bruce had read _The Lightning Thief_ out loud to Dick and that they’d both enjoyed it, despite the fact that Dick had been fifteen at the time.

That conversation had segued into a discussion over whether the upcoming movie adaptation would be good. (They both agreed that it probably wouldn’t be) And from there the conversation turned to books in general, a topic Jason would always be comfortable talking about.

They probably could have talked about _The Princess Bride_ all night if it hadn’t been for Bruce’s phone going off.

Bruce checked the caller-ID and sighed. “Sorry Jay, I’ve got to take this.” He left the room quickly, telling whomever was on the other end that he’d be there in twenty.

Jason wasn’t sure what shocked him more- the abrupt end to the conversation or the fact that Bruce had called him “Jay.”

Since Jason had yet to convince Alfred to eat _with_ them- Bruce said it was a lost cause but Jason was still trying- he had a moment to recover before the butler appeared to clear up dinner.

“Where does he go at night?” Jason asked. He had yet to catch a glimpse of Bruce after ten o’clock. He didn’t sleep, Jason knew; the room Jason slept in wasn’t all that far from Bruce’s, so it was easy to watch the door. He’d stayed up past one in the morning reading last night, and he’d never seen Bruce enter.

“All over the city, Master Jason.” Alfred said. “Calling on ‘friends’ of his.”

The air quotes couldn’t have been clearer if Alfred had actually done the motions.

Jason sighed, accepting that Bruce’s nightly exploits were just something he wasn’t trusted with. It made sense: after all, he was only here temporarily.

“Thanks for dinner Alfred.” Jason said, leaving before the man could reply.

The next morning’s breakfast was- generously described- eventful.

Bruce looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept at all, and Jason. Well.

If pressed, Jason would have vehemently denied the charge that he was sulking, but sulking he was.

After twenty minutes of awkward silence, Bruce commented, “You still aren’t wearing the clothes Alfred bought you.”

Jason picked at the frayed sleeves of his read hoodie. _Technically_ , he was wearing some of those clothes- his own socks were in the wash, so he was wearing some of the ones Alfred bought while they were at the library. But that wasn’t what the comment was really about.

He fidgeted. “I like my clothes.”

“Jason.”

That commanding tone no longer made Jason want to jump up and flee the house, but he looked up anyway.

“Jay,” There was the nickname again. “It’s perfectly fine to accept hospitality while you’re here. I know you’re scared that there’s still another shoe going to drop, but nobody is going to punish you, alright? You have to wear something other than that hoodie eventually.”

“I like this hoodie.”

“That hoodie barely qualifies as an article of clothing.”

Jason tugged the hoodie closer around himself- as if that could protect him from his fears that it would now be taken from him.

Bruce sighed. “Is it special for some reason?” When Jason didn’t answer, he continued, “Please Jay, I’m trying to understand, here.”

“My mom got it for me.” Jason mumbled. “She knew I like red and got it new because there weren’t any red ones at the thrift store.” At the time, it had been Jason’s most expensive article of clothing, as everything else had come from Goodwill.

Bruce nodded like he understood, but how could he possibly? He could afford whatever clothes he wanted.

Apparently reading Jason’s thoughts, Bruce said, “Half the books in the upstairs library are falling to pieces, but I can’t bear to replace them.”

 _Alright, I’ll bite._ Jason thought. “Why not?”

“My mother bought them for me.” He said simply.

Jason nodded, suddenly curious about what had happened to the woman who wrote a message in a copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ and gave it to a boy too young to read it.

“What- What happened to her?”

Bruce smiled sadly. “She and my father were both murdered when I was about your age.”

Jason blinked. Loosing parents like that was a common story in the Alley, but murder seemed so far from this house with its crystal chandeliers and original paintings that he hadn’t even considered something like that.

“Oh.”

“The point is,” Bruce said, keeping his voice light, “I understand wanting to keep a piece of her around, I really do, but you can’t wear that forever. It’s already falling to pieces.”

Jason nodded, looking down at his plate. He could acknowledge that. Didn’t mean he was going to do it.

Bruce sighed again. “What’s this mood really about?”

Jason looked up, startled.

“Come on Jay, you’re clearly upset about something.”

“You keep calling me that.” Jason said.

“What? Jay? Is that what you’re mad about? I can stop if you want.” Bruce offered.

“No, that’s not it.” Jason slumped down in his chair. “That part’s fine, I guess.”

In reality, it was better than fine. Jason liked having a nickname. It felt nice, having that distinction, but ‘Jay’ was also impersonal enough that it didn’t indicate obligation. Some of the kids at school had called him Jay, back when he went to school.

“Then what part isn’t fine?” Bruce asked.

Jason sucked his bottom lip through his teeth. “ _Wheredoyougoatnight_?” He rushed out, already looking away. “I know it’s none of my business but—“

“Jason.” Bruce cut him off. “It’s fine. Usually when I have to go like that it’s for work.” He didn’t specify if it was for work this time. “And I’m sorry I had to leave in the middle of our discussion.” He continued, correctly guessing the root cause of Jason’s frustration. “I can’t promise that I won’t have to do it again, but I can try to make it up to you.”

The words ‘no, It’s fine, you don’t owe me anything’ died on Jason’s lips as he looked up into Bruce’s genuinely apologetic expression. It was a different sort of apology from the one yesterday, the one that screamed pity. This one was better.

Seeing the look on his face, Bruce stood. “I don’t have to be at work until noon today. Would you like to watch a movie or play a board game?”

Jason debated the merit of this idea in his head. He’d rather read, but asking Bruce to read to him still felt like crossing some invisible line.

Jason nodded. “I’m okay at chess.”

“I think there’s a board in the study.” Bruce said, already leading the way out of the room.

Jason scampered out of his chair, a poorly concealed grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, book discussion is part five of the thirty-seven-part plan. Nicknames are step six.


	9. Sons and Salutations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of swearing in this chapter, fair warning. I’m earning that teen and up rating.
> 
> Because I made Dick officially adopted, I’m making the parent thing clearer than it was in canon. Dick and Bruce have always liked some ambiguity on that count, but their legal relationship is more defined here, and therefore terms like “son” get thrown around more often.
> 
> Thanks to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta'ing this long chapter.
> 
> If things here don't make sense to you it might be because I posted a chapter Wednesday. (chapter 8) So if you missed that you might want to check it out

Jason barely ate anything for breakfast the next Saturday- he was too nervous. Bruce’s son was visiting today. Bruce’s son, who, apparently, had been a circus acrobat before getting adopted by a billionaire. It was so incredibly ridiculous that Jason had gone to Alfred for confirmation on the story after he heard it from Bruce. Who the hell had a life like that? Richard Grayson, apparently. It was insane.

Jason was close to tearing his hair out. On the one hand, he really wanted Bruce’s son to like him. This week had been the best one since Jason’s mom first started using; he was fed and happy, despite knowing that it couldn’t last. Making a good impression would be best if Jason wanted to enjoy his last two weeks here. On the other hand, he wanted nothing to do with Richboy McCircusbrat on principle. People who had lives like that didn’t generally mix with people who had lives like Jason’s. (His current situation notwithstanding) Jason had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

But, as Alfred had made _abundantly_ clear, it wasn’t like he had a choice. Richard had barely visited since he moved out months ago, and Alfred finally convincing him to come back for a full weekend was a big deal, because Richard and Bruce had apparently been fighting.

Privately, Jason thought his presence would only make that fight worse, but Alfred insisted that Jason being around would ‘at least keep them from biting each other’s heads off’.

Which was why Jason was currently suffering through breakfast rather than hiding in his room. His only consolation was that Bruce looked even more nervous than Jason felt. He was just pushing his food around his plate, nothing like the military efficiency that he usually ate with.

They made an odd pair, homeless child and adult billionaire, both dreading a teenager’s visit.

Jason was starting to feel like breakfast had gone on for an eternity when Alfred appeared in the doorway.

“Master Richard has arrived. He’s in the kitchen.”

Jason reluctantly followed Bruce to the kitchen, feeling like a pig being lead to the slaughter. He made an attempt to wait outside the doorway where he could hear what was happening but also be out of sight, but he was foiled by a look from Alfred, who then bustled off to do whatever ninja-butlers did this time of day.

Cowed, Jason followed Bruce into the room, not even having to scan it for the person they were here to see: Richard was pretty hard to miss, sitting on the counter and gulping down a glass of orange juice like a man dying of thirst. Careful sure to stay close to the door, Jason took a second to examine him.

He was probably fairly tall, but it was hard to tell with him sitting on the counter. He had black hair and a darker complexion of ambiguous ethnic heritage, though Jason would say Southern European or maybe Middle Eastern if he had to guess. He looked younger than he was, more suited to high school than college, though maybe that was just the impression his body language and clothing were giving. (He was wearing a Green Lantern t-shirt) When he looked over at Bruce and Jason, he had bright, almost shocking blue eyes.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Hello Dick.” That was a weird thing to call your son, but Jason supposed that it _was_ a way to shorten Richard.

“Bruce.” Dick acknowledged, putting down his empty glass.

Jason could feel the tension already.

“Are you hungry?” Bruce asked, “Alfred made breakfast.”

 _Oh god no_ , Jason thought, _not back to breakfast_. He couldn’t take that again.

Luckily, Dick shook his head. “Ate on the way here.”

Jason made a move to step back out the door, but he miscalculated and found himself stopped by Bruce’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch this time.

Unfortunately, the movement brought Dick’s full attention to him.

Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Bruce. “Who is this?”

Jason desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.

Bruce patted Jason’s shoulder. “This is Jason.”

“And what is- ah, Jason- doing here?”

“He needed a place to stay.”

“Ah huh,” Dick said, eyes back on Jason, “Why _here_?”

“Plenty of spare bedrooms.” Bruce said neutrally.

Jason sighed. “Batman kidnapped me and brought me here, for some reason.” He supplied, trying to remind them both that he was _right here_.

Dick looked at him, raising his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

“You think I’m lying?” Jason demanded, irritated. Who would make up a story like that?

Dick looked startled. “No, not at all,” he looked at Bruce, “seems pretty plausible, actually.”

Everyone was quiet for a second, before Bruce asked, “How’s college?” in an obvious ploy to change the subject.

Dick frowned like he wanted to continue the discussion, but he answered anyway. “It’s fine, I guess. Not really my style but I’m doing okay. I know most of the material from the freshman courses already.”

Bruce nodded like this was expected.

Jason was going to die of awkwardness.

“Have you considered transferring to Gotham U next year? Being closer to home?”

“You made it pretty clear that you’d rather I try something new.” Dick said, with more than a trace of bitterness.

“I didn’t mean you had to leave Gotham.”

“What—“ Dick paused, taking a deep breath and clenching a fist. “—What exactly was I supposed to _do_ , Bruce?”

“Not run away to those _friends_ of yours!”

Jason shrank back towards the doorway. He had enough experience with fiery tempers to sense an impending explosion.

“Well I’m fucking sorry that you’re disappointed, but need I remind you that you FORFEITED THE RIGHT TO JUDGE MY DECISIONS WHEN YOU SAID THAT YOU DIDN’T CARE WHAT _I_ WANTED ANYMORE!” Dick had started at what Jason’s teachers had called an ‘inside voice’ but built in volume until he was full out screaming at the end. At least he hadn’t made any moves to make the fight physical.

“That’s not what I _meant_.” Bruce growled.

“THEN WHAT THE FUCK _DID_ YOU MEAN, BRUCE!?”

Just then, Alfred stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat. “I believe you two may be scaring young master Jason.”

They both looked over at where Jason- who was not _scared_ , thank you very much- was doing his best impression of the wall until such time as he was certain that he could sneak out without being seen- which looked like it was going to be never, because everyone in the room was looking at him now.

Bruce and Dick shared a meaningful look, and then Dick sighed and swiped a hand through his hair. “Sorry kid- Jason. You didn’t need to hear that.” The passive-aggressive ‘ _but I needed to say it_ ’ went unsaid.

Realizing he was supposed to say something here, Jason replied, “It’s fine. I’ve heard plenty of fights.” _And it ended before either of you turned on_ me _, so this was better than most of those._

Dick gave him a very forced-looking smile. “Still, sorry. Bruce has probably mentioned me, but I still haven’t introduced myself.” He hopped off the counter and held out a hand. “Dick Grayson.”

“Jason Todd.” Jason said, shaking the offered hand.

“Sooooo,” Dick said, with the look of a man trying to revive a dying conversation. “How long have you been here?”

“Two weeks.”

“Well that’s… cool.”

“Mm.” Jason hummed.

“How old are you?”

“Eleven. Almost twelve.”

Dick looked at Bruce.

“Nine.” Bruce supplied.

Jason frowned. He hadn’t told Bruce his real age, had he? Unless- Jason had told Barbara his birthdate at the library. Bruce must have been listening. Damn.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this _riveting_ exchange,” Alfred commented, reminding them all that he was there, “I require use of the kitchen if the stew is going to be finished in time for lunch. Perhaps the two of you might go test the structural integrity of the tire swing while Master Bruce clears up breakfast?” His tone made it clear that this was not a suggestion.

Jason grumbled a bit, but Dick smiled- a genuine one this time- and chirped, “Sure thing, Alfie!” He corralled Jason out of the kitchen and into the main entryway, where they paused long enough for Jason to put on shoes.

Jason followed Dick far enough to get a good look at the swing before stopping. “Well, looks structurally sound to me…”

Dick snorted. “Come on, you know what Alfred meant.”

Jason grumbled some more, but got on the swing without significant protest.

“Have you used this yet?” Dick asked.

Jason nodded; he’d come out here and sat in the tire swing while reading a couple of times in the past week.

“Have you tested how high it goes?”

Jason shook his head. He’d mostly just done little rocking motions. He hadn’t wanted to accidentally fall off because he was focused on a book.

Dick grinned. “Well then you’re in for some fun. Hold on tight.”

Jason grabbed on to the tire just as Dick started pulling on the extra long tail of rope that Jason hadn’t been able to discern a purpose for before.

Dick walked as far away from the tree as he could- only stopping when the swing and Jason were suspended far above his head. When Jason craned his neck around, he could see that Dick had a mad glint in his eye.

“Dick…” Jason said, suddenly nervous, “Are you sure this is saaAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Jason’s question devolved into a shriek because Dick had released the rope and Jason was moving way faster than a tire swing should ever go. All thoughts abandoned him as he held on to the tire for dear life.

Jason was feeling mildly sick to his stomach by the time the swing slowed enough for him to think again. In the background he could hear Dick cackling.

As soon as the swing came to a near stop Jason tried to climb off, intending to get revenge of some sort, but he was way to dizzy and ended up face planting on the ground.

“Oooh that looks like it hurt. You okay?” Dick’s voice was closer than it should have been. Jason rolled over to see that Dick was crouched down next to him, still grinning.

“Hate… you…” Jason gasped, and then immediately mentally reprimanded himself for treating the guy like he would have one of his friends from the Alley.

But Dick just laughed. “Bruce used to do that to me,” he admitted, “it’s a lot more fun the second time.”

“Forgive me if I take your word for it,” Jason grumbled.

Dick laughed again. “You’re a riot, kid, you know that? Jokes _and_ slapstick. You’d make a good clown.”

Jason wasn’t sure that was a complement. Then again, Dick had a different frame of reference for clowns from the rest of the city.

Dick stood and offered Jason a hand up. Jason took it, letting Dick pull him up.

“You’re, uh, a little dirty there.”

Jason looked down at his dust and grass streaked pants. “Gee, I wonder why.”

Dick ruffled Jason’s hair. “Come on. You can get changed while I talk to Bruce.”

“You aren’t going to yell at each other again, are you?” Jason couldn’t see why they were angry. Jason might not like Dick all _that_ much, but he seemed okay, and they hadn’t actually mentioned the cause of their fight while they were yelling earlier.

Dick sighed. “I can’t promise that I won’t, but I’ll try- as long as he doesn’t start something.”

Jason nodded, knowing that was the best answer he was going to get.

Inside the manor Jason kicked off his shoes and nodded to Dick before he ran up to his room. It took him a while, because it was on the top floor and that was a lot of stairs. He got changed quickly, torn about whether he wanted to get back downstairs to head off the fight that was probably brewing or if he wanted to hole up in his room and ride it out.

In the end, he decided that it would probably be better to head it off, even though it scared him, because even if he stayed in here there was no guarantee that the fight wouldn’t involve him later.

So Jason walked back downstairs, as quietly as possible, listening for the sounds of a fight.

The manor was quiet enough that Jason wondered if they’d gone outside before he walked past the dining room and heard voices. Jason stopped, leaning against the door, trying to gauge whether he should go in.

“—What were you _thinking_ , keeping that kid here?” That was Dick.

Whatever Bruce said, it was to low for Jason to hear.

“Didn’t have a _choice_? Bruce, that kid needs help. I know you’ve seen the signs. The flinching, the fear of raised voices. It’s _textbook_ , Bruce.”

This time, Jason could hear Bruce’s response. “He’s already had a bad experience with a social worker- I don’t know if those responses come from that or from someone in his family, but I can’t put him back through the system. He’s a good kid and they’ll eat him alive. You, of all people, should know what that’s like.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dick paused. He might have sighed. “It’s just, I wish you’d called me.”

“You were angry, and you seemed like you wanted your space. You only came _today_ because Alfred demanded it.”

“That’s not _fair_. You’re the one who kicked me to the curb when you couldn’t _handle_ me being around anymore! I had to come up with everything from scratch! It took time!”

Jason froze. As much as he’d been loath to admit it, he’d started harboring hope that maybe he could stay longer once this month was up. He liked it here. But if Bruce had kicked out his own son, what chance did Jason have?

“I didn’t want you to leave—“ Bruce was saying.

“Well you didn’t seem like you wanted me here either.”

“You can still be my son, even without…“

“Even without _what_ , Bruce?”

Jason missed Bruce’s response.

“You know what, as much as I want to yell at you for that, we’re having this discussion because you have another kid living in this house, and no plans to deal with it. You can’t just _keep_ him here.”

“I don’t want to _just_ keep him here—“

Jason backed away from the door. He’d heard enough. Bruce had made things explicitly clear.

Jason could feel tears stinging his eyes. He should’ve- He should’ve known. It seemed so obvious now. Why the hell would Bruce want Jason here? Why would he want the random street rat a vigilante had dumped on his lap? Jason had let himself think- he’d let himself start to wonder if maybe Bruce cared. After the library. After the last week of watching movies together and Jason losing spectacularly at chess after he told Bruce to stop going easy on him. After the last week of discussing books at every meal…

Jason had started to feel like he wasn’t unwanted. But no, Bruce had been doing it all out of casual politeness and a misplaced sense of obligation. Somehow, that hurt even worse than if he’d just been cold from the start.

A sob tore it’s way out of Jason’s throat. Of fucking course. This was typical. Why had he ever thought that it was going to be any different?

Jason heard, rather than saw, the dining room door start to open.

“Jason?”

He was off like a shot, down the hall and up the stairs. He ran into a random room and slammed the door behind him. Leaning against it, he slid down to the floor and curled up, hugging his knees.

Why? Why had he been so stupid?

Sitting there on the floor, Jason let himself crack- really let himself cry without any effort to stop it- for the first time since his mother died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite some excellent points made in the comments about Bruce canonically adopting Jason within a month of Dick leaving, I’m spreading the timeline out to an ambiguous couple of months, because that canon makes pretty much zero sense. (“No more Robin” Bruce says, literally twenty six seconds before grabbing another kid to be Robin. I’m on to you, Bruce)
> 
> I tried to strike a balance here with how much Dick’s reaction to Jason changed. His problems with Bruce weren’t just going to go away, and I figured he’d probably still have a little trouble with the whole you-adopted-another-kid thing, but without the Robin part I think he’d be a bit more mellow about it, at least enough to give Jason more of a chance. (Which he did eventually do canonically anyway)
> 
> Likewise, with Dick acting "nicer" and coming in much sooner in Jason’s relationship with Bruce, I think Jason would be less territorial; in fact, he still feels like he’s the one intruding, hence his reluctance to engage with anything.


	10. Talk and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who managed a Wednesday chapter for a second week in a row? That's right, 'tis me.
> 
> I might even be switching to a proper twice-weekly update schedule. Wouldn't that be great?
> 
> Unbeta'd, because my beta is on a well-deserved vacation.

Jason didn’t know how long he sat there before Bruce found him.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Jason, can I come in?”

Jason really wanted to scream for him to leave but he was to busy trying to get his tears under control.

Jason heard a sigh, and then there was a soft thump and the sound of fabric sliding against wood. When Bruce spoke again his voice was coming from closer to where Jason’s head was, like he too was sitting on the floor.

“Jason, I don’t know what you think you heard, but—“

Jason’s despair took a hairpin turn into anger. “I heard _enough_.” He snapped. Then the anger started to drain away again, leaving a hollow feeling in Jason’s chest. “It’s okay if you don’t want me here,” He whispered, not sure if Bruce could hear him, “Nobody has ever wanted me anywhere except my mom so it was stupid of me to think that maybe you might and you know like I—“ Jason paused to quash down a sob. “—I shouldn’t have assumed anything like that and I should be able to tell when people are just being polite and—“ Jason sucked in a breath. “—I’m sorry I’m making this more difficult for you right now but I just can’t stop.” A strangled sort of whimper forced it’s way out on the last word. “I’m so sorry—“

“Jason.”

“—I’m just so sorry that I’m here and I’m being a burden and I’m—“

“Jason.”

“—Making things harder between you and your son and—“

“ _Jason_.” Bruce rapped on the door between them hard enough that Jason could feel the vibrations in the wood. “That’s not it at all. It’s not that I don’t _want_ you here.“

_Pretty sure that’s exactly what you said._ Jason thought, his anger making a return.

“Look, Jay. What I was trying to tell Dick was just that this wouldn’t have been my first choice. This house isn’t exactly a good or stable home, and Dick knows that better than anyone. My lifestyle isn’t… good, for a child.”

_Seems fine to me_. Jason thought bitterly.

“I’ve messed up a lot along the way. Things are bad between Dick and I right now because I wasn’t clear enough about what was important.” Bruce sighed. “So what I was trying to say was that I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.” He chuckled sadly. “And I’m afraid I did just that by being unclear. I’ve never been the best at communication.”

Jason nodded, even though Bruce couldn’t see him.

“I know that you’re mad right now, and you have every right to be. You probably don’t really want to listen to what I have to say. But we made a deal about you staying a month, so can we just try for a little longer?”

When Jason didn’t replay, Bruce sighed again.

“I’ll give you some space.”

_Don’t go!_ Jason wanted to shout. He didn’t want the illusion that someone cared to break just yet. But he didn’t, and a moment later he heard a rustling sound and the footfalls that indicated Bruce had left.

Jason sat on the floor for a long time after that. Not crying anymore- just sort of zoned out. It wasn’t until the lighting in the room started to change to indicate afternoon that he shook himself out of his reverie.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. He wanted nothing more than to flee. To grab his stuff and just run. Back to the streets where he never had to worry about what people though of him.

But he’d made a deal, and if Bruce still wanted to go through with it, then running now might cause a whole host of problems. Jason could manage to make himself unobtrusive for two weeks to ensure Bruce wouldn’t call social services. Or Gotham’s resident bat-enthusiast. Yesterday, he might have doubted that Bruce would actually go through with that threat, but now he wasn’t so sure. He did think that he could at least rely on Bruce being a man of his word. He had yet to break a promise.

Keeping his head down and leaving as soon as possible had been the original plan anyway. Just because Jason had allowed himself to stray from it didn’t mean that that it was a bad plan.

Jason stood up slowly. He needed to find Bruce and confirm this course of action. He would need to be civil and professional, to make up for that emotional display.

Jason took a deep breath and opened the door.

… And then immediately screeched and jumped backward.

The cause of Jason’s fright woke with a start, hands automatically going up into a guard position, though it wasn’t like it would do much good considering his current position sprawled out on the floor.

“What the hell!?” Dick demanded, groggily.

“I should be asking you that!” Jason yelled, his own hands curled into fists. Dick was lucky Jason hadn’t instinctively kicked him.

Dick seemed to realize where he was, and turned a little pink. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

Jason blinked, genuinely surprised. “—Why?”

Dick sat up. “I’m leaving. I wanted to say bye.”

“What? Why?”

Dick sighed. “This place is…” He trailed off. “I just think it’s better if I leave.”

Jason’s eyes widened in panic. _Bruce will be mad if Dick leaves because of me_. “It’s not. You should stay.” Jason tried to keep the quaver out of his voice.

“Look. There’s…. Bruce and Alfred are…Bruce is trying his best. He didn’t…” Dick sighed. “Having me here wasn’t his first choice either, but we had six years of… life here, and it worked out. I know he loves me, even if he’s bad at showing it sometimes. So just, give him a chance, Okay? He’s not great at communicating, and things get messy fast.”

“Is that what made you leave?”

Dick laughed sadly. “No, that one was pretty clear.” He eyed Jason. “He didn’t exactly kick me out but…” He looked down at his hands. “Just trust me when I say it’s complicated, okay? He does care.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Jason.

“I should go,” Dick continued.

Panic set in again. “No!”

Dick looked startled. “Hey, It’s fine.”

“Bruce will be upset if you go.”

“Yeah, but he’ll get over—“ Dick stopped, looking Jason up and down. His expression turned pitying. “I’ll stay for dinner, how about that? You missed lunch.”

Jason nodded. That was better than nothing.

They ended up having an early dinner, likely because Alfred had sensed the tension in the manor. The old butler even sat with them, something Jason hadn’t yet managed to get him to do, after Dick gave him a pleading look and begged him to stay, citing the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in months.

The two of them made a valiant attempt to hold a conversation, but since neither Jason nor Bruce made an attempt to join them, it eventually petered out.

Jason occupied himself with eating a great deal of food very quickly, falling back on habits that he’d been making an effort to break- or at least hide- before today.

Dick finished eating and broke the silence with, “I’m going to head out. I have some work I forgot about.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but Bruce inclined his head to accept it, even though he looked a bit disappointed.

“I might visit again in a couple of weeks?” The announcement sounded more like a question.

“You’re always welcome here, Dick.” Bruce said.

Dick ducked his head, somewhere between refusal and acknowledgement. He stood, and Alfred stood to give him a hug. Then Dick nodded to Bruce, ruffled Jason’s hair, and left, Alfred trailing after him to show him out. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but it felt… heavy, and drawn out. And it felt like Dick had taken the atmosphere out of the room when he left.

Refocusing on Bruce, Jason felt a pit of dread form in his stomach.

“Jason, I—“

“You really want to go through with the last two weeks of our deal?” Jason blurted.

Bruce paused. “Yes. I want to keep my word, if you’ll allow it.”

So the threat still stood then.

Jason nodded. “Okay.”

Bruce stood, circling the table before putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. It was almost reassuring this time.

“I do like having you here, Jay. Just because it wouldn’t have been my first choice doesn’t mean that I’m not glad it turned out this way.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Jason feeling drained and refreshed at the same time. And maybe- just maybe- the hope that Jason thought had withered and died mere hours ago sprouted anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is fixed, not by a long shot. But Bruce got Jason's trust in two weeks before, and he can do it again. He's not even starting from scratch this time.
> 
> If anyone was wondering, for the characters in this AU I'm mostly drawing on post-crisis with a tiny bit of pre-crisis for Bruce and the good parts of Rebirth for Jason. (and the scene that happens right before this fic starts is straight from rebirth)
> 
> We're actually getting close to the end of this, (couple of weeks, maybe) but have no fear! If you're enjoying this 'verse I already have a sequel in the works. (It was actually going to all be part of a much longer fic originally, but the tone shifts enough that I decided to separate it. I hope I'll have the first chapter of that up at the same time I post the last chapter of this one, whenever that is)


	11. Colleagues and Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late/short chapter! This one unbeta'd, (please tell me if you see a typo) because I got dragged on an impromptu camping trip and ran out of time.
> 
> (It's also not up to the quality standards I'd normally like, but oh well)
> 
> There was a chapter Wednesday, if anyone missed that.

The next week wasn’t as awkward as it could have been, but that wasn’t saying much. Jason had withdrawn back into familiar habits- safe habits. Avoidance, defensiveness. He spent most of his time reading- even moving downstairs to try some of the books in the large library. When the thoughts buzzing through his head got to be too much to focus on a book, he took walks around the manor grounds, even going so far as to take a coat heavier than his hoodie for some of the longer excursions.

He fantasized about staying here forever more than he would have liked to admit on those walks, but he never acted on any of those fantasies. How could he? He was still torn between hoping that Bruce wouldn’t mind and the crushing reality of ‘I don’t want to keep him here.’ No matter what Bruce had said afterward, those words were hard to misinterpret.

For the most part, Jason and Bruce didn’t talk. Bruce seemed content to let Jason be alone for the last two weeks of his stay. So it came as a surprise when Bruce stayed home Friday, asking Jason if he’d like to play chess or watch a movie.

Jason declined politely, terrified that he’d show his desperation if had had to be around Bruce for long.

Bruce’s face flickered with an emotion that might have been irritation, or might have been disappointment.

God, Jason hoped it was disappointment.

Jason retreated to the library and was a few chapters into a very old, very fancy copy of _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ when the manor had a visitor.

Positioned as he was in the downstairs library, Jason was able to hear Alfred’s unruffled “Mr. Kent. What a surprise.” When the butler got the door.

Jason froze, listening. He wondered who this ‘Mr. Kent’ was. Alfred seemed to know him, which probably meant he wasn’t dangerous. No way to be sure, though.

Jason couldn’t hear Mr. Kent’s reply, but it must have been some sort of explanation, because Alfred said “Oh yes of course, I’ll fetch Master Bruce.”

Bruce must have been on the first floor, because Alfred returned with him almost immediately.

“Is there some sort of emergency?” Bruce asked.

A voice that had to be Mr. Kent’s replied, “No I— Dick told me that you had a child here?”

Upon hearing that, Jason slid silently out of his chair, padding closer to the library’s open door, where he could hear better.

Bruce sighed. “It’s not work-related, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not.”

“His name is Jason. He’s staying here because there’s nowhere else for him to go.”

Mr. Kent laughed at that. “You sure that’s the only reason, Bruce? You do seem to have developed a habit of taking in strays.”

“Twice is a coincidence, not a habit.”

“Sure.” Mr. Kent replied. “Can I meet him?”

“He’s probably been listening in since this conversation started.” Bruce said.

Only feeling a little guilty for being caught, Jason walked out of the library into the foyer.

Mr. Kent was not exactly what Jason had pictured. He’d thought… well, he didn’t honestly know what he’d thought, but the tall- _really_ tall- broad-shouldered, dark haired man standing before him was not it. He was wearing a suit and glasses, even though neither seemed to really fit him- the suit because it was cut too large and the glasses because his all-American good looks would have paired far better with contacts than with the small rectangular glasses.

Mr. Kent smiled a bright, confident smile that really ought to have put Jason on edge but didn’t, somehow. “Hi, I’m Clark. Nice to meet you.”

“...Hi.” Jason said, thoroughly disarmed.

Mr. Kent continued to grin. “Well, how long have you been here?”

“Few weeks now.”

Mr. Kent looked at Bruce, a knowing smile on his face. “How did you meet Bruce?”

“Batman kidnapped me.”

Mr. Kent looked incredibly unsurprised by this.

“Why did he—“

Alfred cleared his throat, and Jason jumped. He’d forgotten Alfred was there. “Perhaps we could continue this discussion over lunch? That is, if you would join us, Mr. Kent?”

If anything, Mr. Kent seemed to grin bigger. “I’d never turn down an Alfred-made lunch.”

Lunch turned out to be spaghetti with kielbasa. It was the second time Alfred had made it since Jason had shared his love for the dish, but he didn’t have too much time to be grateful, because he was mesmerized by how much Mr. Kent was eating.

Jason’s eyes boggled as Mr. Kent ate third, fourth, and fifth helpings of spaghetti. “Where are you putting all that?” he asked incredulously.

Mr. Kent winked. “Hollow leg.”

Jason spared a brief moment to mourn the idea that there might be leftovers.

“Gotta be a hollow _head_ , too.” Jason clapped his hands over his mouth, but Mr. Kent just laughed.

“You know,” Mr. Kent said, looking over at Bruce, “For a man who is humor-challenged you sure seem to find some funny kids.”

“I have a sense of humor.”

Mr. Kent shrugged. “If you say so.”

Jason snickered. Bruce was nice, but he had yet to crack a joke in Jason’s presence.

“See?” Mr. Kent said, “The kid’s with me.”

“Hm.” Bruce hummed. “Did you come all the way to Gotham just to meet Jason and insult me, Clark?” The tone he used made it seem like a more loaded question than it was.

“Do I need another reason?”

 

* * *

 

Mr. Kent finished lunch first, and after he bid a quick goodbye to Jason Bruce showed him out.

Jason finished almost immediately after and went looking for Bruce, thinking that maybe he’d take the man up on the offer to watch a movie.

When he approached the foyer he heard conversation. It sounded like Mr. Kent hadn’t quite left yet.

Jason was turning into quite the eavesdropper these days.

“—Batman find him?” Mr. Kent was asking.

“Crime Alley. Living in a condemned building.” Bruce’s voice was an octave lower than it normally was.

A pause.

“He’s a great kid.” Jason could _hear_ the smile in Mr. Kent’s voice.

“He is.”

Mr. Kent sighed. “You can’t let him end up back on the streets.”

“I don’t plan too.”

If either of them said anything after that, it was too quiet for Jason to hear.

Jason waited a moment, and then there was the sound of the door opening and then closing. Mr. Kent had left.

Jason scampered off to the library, torn between delight (Bruce thought he was a great kid!) and fear (What if Bruce called social services at the end of next week?). He supposed he'd have to ask, but the thought made his heart plunge into his stomach. Did he really want to know?

In the end, Jason set the thought aside. It was better to avoid thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows that Jason is staying forever except Jason.
> 
> Note that Jay quotes Bruce as saying “I don’t want to keep him here.” Which is not what Bruce said. What Bruce said was “I don’t want to *just* keep him here.” Which is very, very different.
> 
> There won't be any chapters next week because I'm busy and then camping again, but the last two chapters should be up on Wednesday/Sunday of the following week.
> 
> Hopefully the first chapter of the sequel will go up at the same time, but if you want to read that you should probably subscribe to/bookmark [the series I put this in](http://archiveofourown.org/series/777216) so you can be sure to see when I start the sequel in case the timing doesn't line up.


	12. Hoodies and Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for beta-ing this!
> 
> There were edits to the last two paragraphs of the previous chapter, because I wasn’t satisfied with the originals. You can check that out if you want, but it doesn’t really change anything except how I feel about that chapter.
> 
> The final chapter will go up Sunday. Hopefully the first chapter of the sequel will go up at the same time

Jason woke up Thursday morning expecting to go about his day as he had the last week. He’d eat, pull on his hoodie, go outside or maybe read in the library, help Alfred make lunch or maybe dinner, and avoid Bruce.

He wasn’t sure what to think, honestly. One the one hand, Bruce did seem like he was telling the truth about enjoying having Jason there, but on the other, Jason still wasn’t sure if not letting him back on the street just meant that Bruce planned to call Social Services, and he was too scared to ask. Overhearing Bruce’s conversation with Mr. Kent had only served to make Jason more anxious.

Either way, it wasn’t usually Jason’s style to avoid a confrontation, but he never said he wasn’t a coward. He liked going into that sort of thing with his own feelings already sorted out, with the objectivity of cynicism. He couldn’t do that now. He was too scared of what he would find out, because he was too hopeful for the better outcome. So much for being smarter about this.

Taking a deep breath, Jason went to get ready for breakfast, pulling on some of the clothing Alfred had bought him, and reaching for his hoodie.

When his hand met empty air, he froze. He could have sworn he’d left it on the bedpost last night. It had developed a split down the front along the zipper yesterday, and he’d been planning on asking to burrow a needle and thread from Alfred today to mend it. He figured that wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.

Of course, that plan went out the window if his hoodie wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Maybe he’d left it downstairs? He didn’t _think_ he had, but…

“Master Jason, breakfast!” He heard Alfred call through the door.

“Just a second, Alfred!” Jason called back, dropping to the floor to check under the bed. Maybe the hoodie had just fallen in the night.

When neither the bed, bathroom, nor closet yielded any results, Jason was forced to admit that it wasn’t in his room.

He wondered downstairs toward the dining room, making sure to check the library on the way, but his hoodie wasn’t there either.

By the time he made it to the dining room, Jason was starting to be genuinely worried. The idea that he’d _lost_ the last thing he had from his mother was…

He slid into his seat at the table feeling hollowed out. He spent most of breakfast just pushing his food around his plate.

He’d known he’d have to leave it behind eventually. Either he’d grow to large for it or it would fall apart to the point of being unwearable, but he’d never thought it would be this soon. It hadn’t even been that long since he lost her…

“You alright there, Jay?” Bruce asked, startling Jason out of his thoughts, “You look a bit down.”

“’m fine.” Jason mumbled, not feeling up for conversation.

Bruce seemed content to let Jason deal with whatever it was on his own, and he left for work after breakfast in a rush, without any of the usual attempts to talk Jason into doing something together later.

Jason watched him go, felling like he might have been being unfair to Bruce, but unsure how to deal with it. He’d never been afraid of finding out whether someone wanted him around before, because he’d always known ahead of time. He didn’t want to ask, because he didn’t want Bruce to call social services, but at the same time Bruce doing that would mean that Jason at least meant more than a simple deal to live up to.

Jason spent the rest of the morning checking everywhere he could think of in the house and outside for his hoodie, but by lunchtime he had to admit that he had no idea where it was.

After he forced down lunch without bothering to even notice what it was, he walked back to his bedroom, thinking maybe he’d just sleep the afternoon away, but once he turned out the lights he found the anxiety that had sustained him through his search was being quickly replaced with a sharper pain.

He remembered when his mom had gotten him that hoodie.

It had been both a good month and a bad one at the same time. It was cold, and they’d been saving on the heating bill by bundling up as much as they could. Even that couldn’t put a dent in the cold when it hit in the middle of the night. But Jason’s mom hadn’t been using at the time, so she’d been _present_. Present enough to keep Jason’s dad away. It was nice.

Jason had been wearing his old pullover and a too-large raincoat shell to school. While the raincoat was sturdy- a relic of a time when money wasn’t so tight- the pullover was too small and already deteriorating, so Mom had gone to the store as soon as she scraped together enough money. She’d even bought it new because she knew he wanted a red one and there weren’t any at goodwill, even though it meant waiting a little longer to buy herself a new pair of shoes.

Jason rolled over in bed and let out a shuddering breath. _I’m sorry Mom_. He thought. _I’m so sorry_.

He fell asleep before he was even certain what he was sorry for.

 

* * *

 

_When Jason got home from school, his mom was in the kitchen bent over a pot. Which was weird, because she never cooked this early._

_“Hey baby,” She said, “How was school?”_

_He smiled. “Great! We just started reading_ Charlotte’s Web _!”_

_She smiled back. “Haven’t you read that already?” She teased._

_He rolled his eyes. “Of course! But the teacher wants us to think about the chararcteri- um- characteration?”_

_She laughed. “Characterization?”_

_Jason nodded. “Yeah! That! And I haven’t done that before. We have to include it in our report and everything. She said that we need to move on from summary to anna-list-ist level thinking.”_

_“Analysis?” She supplied._

_Jason nodded._

_“I don’t think I was doing characterization analysis at your age. Is this something that only the advanced readers are doing?”_

_“Yup!” Jason crowed, happy to tell her about the results of her six phone calls to the school to get him moved up from the yellow reading group to the green reading group. “What are you making?”_

_She lifted him up to show him the inside of the pot. “Chili. It takes a long time to cook down, so I’m starting now.”_

_“Yum!” Hot chili sounded like the perfect meal to ward of the cold that would undoubtedly set in by the time they ate._

_She put him down. “I went shopping today. There’s new clothes on your bed.”_

_He grinned, jumping forward to hug her. “Thanks mom!”_

_She laughed again. “Don’t thank me until you see it!” She ruffled his hair, sending him scampering off to the bedroom._

_The apartment only had one bedroom, but Catherine had strung old sheets up around Jason’s bed for his last birthday, giving him a little privacy, though in the winter when his dad wasn’t around he usually shared the bed with her anyway, to conserve heat._

_Pulling back the curtains, Jason almost clapped his hands in delight. There was a goodwill bag, probably full of_ boring _clothes like pants and socks, but there was also a JCPenny’s bag with a suspiciously red object inside. He pulled it out, slipping off his old pullover (blue, his_ least _favorite color) and pulling the new hoodie on. It was a little cold from sitting on the bed, but it was infinitely cuddlier than his old hoodie. It was probably a good two sizes too large for him, the sleeves hanging off his hands comically like the girl from Codename: Kids Next Door. At least, he thought that was the right show. He’d only seen it once, at the birthday party of a kid from school whose name Jason hadn’t bothered to remember because he had only invited Jason because he was inviting every boy in the class._

_In any case, the hoodie wouldn’t be too small for quite a while, even if he got the growth spurt his mom insisted was coming._

_Jason ran back out into the kitchen, tackling his mom in a hug. “Thanks Mom!”_

_His mom kissed the top of his head. “You’re welcome, baby.”_

 

* * *

 

Jason was already crying by the time he realized he was awake. It was a happy memory, so why did it hurt so much now?

Maybe because Dad had come back and Mom had started using again barely two weeks after that, crushing his hope that maybe that time would be the end of the endless cycle. Maybe because that hoodie had been his only reminder of the good times when the bad ones rolled around, and now he’d lost it.

“Jason? Are you in there?”

Jason shot up in bed. When did Bruce get home?

Jason made a quick effort to wipe tears from his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Come in!” Jason called, hating the quaver in his voice.

Bruce opened the door and smiled a tired smile. “Hey, Jay. You doing okay? You seemed off at breakfast.”

Jason sniffled. “Fine.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted like he didn’t believe that. “I don’t know if it’s the best time, but—” He lifted a bag he’d been carrying up into Jason’s view. “—I got you something. Well, not _got_ , exactly- it’s easier to just show you.”

Bruce circled the bed and passed the bag to Jason. It was paper, opaque, and had a logo on it that Jason didn’t recognize. It said ‘Bethany’s Bridal’ in swirly letters.

Jason looked at Bruce quizzically, and Bruce made a vague motion, indicating that Jason should look inside.

Still confused, Jason reached inside the bag and pulled out… was that...?

No, it wasn’t quite the same. It was brighter than his hoodie, long since faded to a greyish red, and it felt a lot heavier, like it was more than one layer.

“Alfred noticed that your old one was ripping and suggested I pick up a new one. I mentioned that the old one had… _meaning_ for you, and he reminded me that this bridal shop had been more than receptive to strange tailoring requests in the past.” Bruce scratched the back of his neck. “Is that… okay?”

Jason looked from the hoodie to Bruce and back again, trying to puzzle out what Bruce was saying. Then he noticed that the inside of the hood was a familiar greyish color.

Jason sucked in a breath. “Is this…?”

Bruce nodded. “The seamstress said that the fabric was too worn out to be worth repairing on it’s own, but that it would work fine as a lining on a new one.”

Tears welled up in Jason’s eyes. He’d thought he _lost_ it- that he’d never be able to wear it again. But now… he’d be able to keep wearing it a lot longer than he would have before- and it would be warmer, too.

“Thank you.” Jason whispered. He desperately wanted to hug Bruce, but he held back, all the fears of the past two weeks washing back over him.

Bruce smiled and ruffled Jason’s hair. “I know what it’s like to want something to hold on to.”

Jason pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a sob.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Bruce said, “Dinner should be soon.”

Jason nodded and buried his face in the new hoodie. A moment later he heard the soft click of the door closing.

 _Thank you_. Jason thought. _Thank you so much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am nothing if not one for cheap, surface-level symbolism.
> 
> Bruce really made a gamble this chapter, didn’t he? He’s lucky it worked out. This was *not* part of the thirty-seven step plan.
> 
> Ever notice how in The Lost Days and Under the Hood Jason always rushed into confrontation, but he also always had a preconceived notion of exactly how the other person would feel and act? Once he decided that Bruce never loved him, he wouldn't hear anything else. None of their debates were earnest attempts to change the other’s mind, just two stubborn people shouting their own views.  
> Anyway that got me thinking about how Jason is a confrontational person, but he never actually wants to confront someone without either A) a knowing how they will act or B) not actually caring about the other person and just wanting to be destructive- which is why he's reluctant here.
> 
> On a separate note, the description of Jason’s schooling in this chapter is based on my own first-grade experience, though Jason is probably in second or third grade here. I honestly don’t know what the green reading group at my school got up too, as I was in the red (remedial) group.


	13. House and Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am technically late by seven minutes, but none of you mind, right?
> 
> ...right?
> 
> thank you to [trashofalltrades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades) for sticking with me the whole way, even when I doubled the amount of chapters she had to beta per week.

Jason knew from experience that three in the morning was when normal people were most likely to be asleep, which was why he chose it as his departure time. He wanted to leave at the time where he’d be least likely to run into anyone.

As of midnight, it had technically been a full month since he struck that original deal with Bruce, and Jason figured that leaving now could be his best bet. Jason knew that if he got up in the morning and faced Bruce and Alfred then his resolve would falter and he’d make a fool of himself.

He got dressed slowly, careful to not make any noise and also careful to select only the clothes he arrived here in- with the exception, of course, of his hoodie. He figured that since at least part of it had been his originally it would be okay to take.

He’d managed to sneak a couple of those mini oranges from breakfast this morning, and those he piled in his pockets. The idea of Alfred’s disappointment overrode the sense of practicality that would have driven him to take anything else.

Jason slipped quietly out of his room, hoping that the threadbare socks he wore would be able to cover his footsteps. He knew most of the places where the floor creaked, but he couldn’t be sure he knew them all.

He had a few close calls going down the dark stairs, but he made it all the way to the foyer without incident. Once he pulled on his shoes all he had to do was slip out the door, and that would be the end of this strange little chapter of his life. But when he stood in front of the ridiculously ornate front door, he found himself hesitating.

He screwed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists. All he had to do was reach out, unlock the door, and walk away. He’d probably make it back into the city proper by morning. It wasn’t like the journey would be particularly difficult. He had a warm coat and a snack, and the whole day to find somewhere to stay the night.

So why couldn’t he just leave?

“Jason?”

Jason startled, whirling around to see Bruce coming down the hall from the study. When he flicked the light on Jason could see that he was wearing fancy pajama pants and a tee shirt. It was the least formal Jason had ever seen him.

Bruce yawned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “What are you doing up at three in the morning?” Bruce asked.

Jason bit his lip. “I was, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at his feet. “Um.”

There were footsteps and then Bruce knelt down in front of him. Then there was a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and another under his chin, tilting his head up.

“Jay, is something wrong?”

Jason blinked. Did Bruce really not know?

Bruce moved his hand from under Jason’s chin to his other shoulder. “You can tell me if something’s the matter. I promise I won’t get mad.”

When the words came, they startled Jason as much as Bruce. “Please don’t call social services!”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to blink. “What?”

Jason looked back down at his feet. “It’s um. It’s been a month.”

“Why would— _Oh_.”

“It’s after midnight, so technically the deal is over, so you shouldn’t call— I mean, you don’t need to call—“

“Jason.” Bruce cut him off. “Is that really what you thought this whole time? That calling social services was a threat to keep you here?”

Jason furrowed his brow and looked up, finally meeting Bruce’s eyes. “Wasn’t it?”

“God, Jason, no. I didn’t—“ Bruce visibly struggled with something for a moment. “—I couldn’t—“ he sighed. “I didn’t mean to threaten you. I couldn’t in good conscience just let you go back on the street. I offered up that deal to buy me enough time to convince you to let me help.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. So turning him over was never on the table? Why the hell was he here then?

“Why— Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to alarm you, and after this week I didn’t think I needed to.”

“After this week?” Jason asked, confused.

“I knew that Dick’s visit was… trying. But I thought that you’d decided to stay after all. You weren’t packing anything—“ Bruce looked Jason up and down. “—You _didn’t_ pack anything, and last night you watched _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ with me and talked about it for an hour.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything.” Jason said, genuinely confused.

“The point is that I thought you already planned on staying. No discussion necessary.”

Jason thought back to the hope rollercoaster he’d been on for the past few weeks. “You didn’t just want to finish out the deal?”

Bruce took Jason’s hands in his own. “Of course not. I’ve wanted you to stay since the moment you got here.”

Jason pressed his lips together. He’d already cried so many times since he came here and he didn’t want to break down now. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad he could almost taste it, but… “Really?”

Bruce nodded, and the simple motion was so full of care and sincerity that Jason couldn’t help but trust it. He rose, carefully tugging Jason back towards the stairs. “Now come on, why don’t you go back to bed?”

Before Jason could talk himself out of the idea, he stepped closer to Bruce and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, the highest point he could easily reach. “ _Thank you_.” He whispered, low enough that Bruce probably wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Jason let go and backed up, looking down and squeezing his eyes shut to hide how his face turned a furious red. “Sorry, I—“

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around him. He tensed, eyes flying open, only to get a face full of tee shirt.

Wait. This was a hug. That was what was happening.

Hesitantly, Jason lifted his arms up to return the hug properly.

Bruce gave him a slight squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Rather than releasing him, as Jason expected, Bruce lifted him up, swinging him so that he was curled up against Bruce’s chest.

Jason squawked in protest, but Bruce just chuckled, and Jason decided that continued objection wasn’t worth the energy.

It was a long walk all the way back up to the fourth floor, and Jason was dozing off by the time they got to his room.

Instead of leaving Jason at the door, Bruce walked right in and placed him on the bed. He gently tugged off Jason’s shoes, ignoring the weak protest of “I can do it m’self.”

Bruce pulled the covers up over Jason and ruffled his hair. “Get some sleep, kiddo.”

Jason nodded and pulled the covers up to his nose, despite the fact that he was still wearing a hoodie and jeans. “G’night, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled. “Good night, Jason.”

And though Jason might have imagined it as he drifted off, he swore that as the door slid shut he could hear Bruce whisper “ _Thank you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of the [sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11732283/chapters/26435052) is already up!
> 
> If you choose to leave us here, thanks for sticking along for the ride to this point, and thank you for all the lovely comments/kudos. Without you, this fic never would have happened. (And I don't even mean that in a sappy way- this started as a crackfic from the line "Half a dozen horrific scenarios played through his head immediately, not the least of which was getting hunted through the woods by a rich guy who’d read The Most Dangerous Game one to many times." so really, if people hadn't liked the first two chapters this would have been pretty much nothing)
> 
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@chimaerakitten](http://chimaerakitten.tumblr.com) if anyone wants to talk fic/hcs/demand more chapters faster.


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